


Wrong Way Around

by ThisPeep



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, Banter, Flirting, Frank Discussions of a Lot of Stuff, Gay Jokes, M/M, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Recovery, Retired Harry Potter, Sex-Repulsed Draco Malfoy, Supportive Draco Malfoy, Supportive Harry Potter, Survivor Guilt, This is Not a Case Fic It Just Involves a Case, Two Very Different People Dealing with Trauma in Very Different Ways, forced to live together trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2019-05-24 01:58:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14945471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisPeep/pseuds/ThisPeep
Summary: Draco Malfoy became an Auror, and Harry Potter did not. After the war, they both needed very different things from life. Apparently, however, life decided that a difference that was not allowed was them being out of each other's.





	1. The Fabulous Life

Everyday Draco was becoming more and more convinced that he was the only Auror in the entire building who actually did the proper paperwork, given the times they all skipped out by. At least, in comparison to the times Draco usually dragged himself out around. 

It was entirely possible, a voice reminded him, that they just found ways to make him have more paperwork than the rest of them. But when he started thinking like that, it was more and more tempting to just quit his job and go live off inheritance and eventually a marriage to some girl who wasn’t actually good enough to marry into their family, but given all the tarnishing of his last name’s reputation, was all they could hope for.

Alright, so blast it if they did manage to have him do three times more paperwork than the rest of his coworkers. At least it kept him from being around his father. And back at the manor. 

He flipped the file closed, silently calling it a night. Hell, he could have verbally called it a night, but there was no one left to hear him anyway. Draco slid his robes back on over his clothes, and flicked the light off before gently closing the door behind him.

The trudge home was a familiar one. He could do it with his eyes closed; or -- as was more appropriate -- in the darkness that came with walking back in the middle of the night. He’d plodded back with a lumos up and running for the first few weeks, but come to know the walk sufficiently to go without fast enough. Turns were picture-perfect detailed in his head, and regular sounds were blocked out subconsciously. There was rarely anything special to hear, anyway. Sometimes crying, which he’d begrudgingly investigate. Usually a minor who’d snuck out and then gotten lost or scared -- once, Draco had to apparate him and a child back to his workplace so he could search for an address to match the name and get the kid back home to his parents.

They’d recognized him before they could thank him, so he left with a simple nod and didn’t flinch when the door slammed. There was a reason why he didn’t join the other Aurors out on exciting or high-profile jobs, after all.

That night was devoid of creeps, however, and he warily stepped up to the door to his house and cast a few detection spells and checked his wards twice before he walked in. Nothing, same as every other night. He locked the door and checked its locked status twice before going to his room. 

He opened the door and caught the thin twine he’d put pinned between the frame and the door itself as it fell, replacing the twine as he closed the door behind him. He hung his robes up on the far right of his closet, then unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt and they both went to the far left of his closet. His trousers soon followed. His undershirt and socks went into the hamper, of course, and his shoes back on the shelf among their kind.

Over to his bed, Draco picked up the four beads he’d left on the corners of his bed, each colored to perfectly match the fabric beneath it, and they went into the small plastic container he kept in his nightstand.

Then Draco checked his alarm was set, slid under his covers, and fell asleep to the sound of screaming and the heat of fire licking his back.

← →

Mellow violins eased him awake at 6, and Draco sat up in bed with a groan. He fumbled to open his nightstand, getting out the notepad and pen he kept in there, and added ‘2’ to the end of a long line of numbers before he put them both back and stood up, violins still vibrating the air. He let them continue as he picked out clothes for the day, stripping off his boxers and adding them to the hamper before he slipped on a new pair, followed by trousers and an undershirt and a button up shirt and a waistcoat. He put his wallet into his left trouser pocket, and his wand into his right one.

He made his bed, taking out the beads and placing them on each corner. He took out his Auror robes, straightening them out before draping them over his arm. He opened his door, catching the twine, then stepped out of his room and held the twine against the inside of the door frame before closing the door, leaving it pinned again.

It was Tuesday, that day, which was a day he apparated. So didn’t go to his kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee, but instead went straight out the door. Locked, check it was locked twice, checked the wards twice, then turned and gracefully walked out into the world. 

The cafe just down the street was always a pleasant walk, but in the spring it was beautiful. Flower-laden trees lined the pavement, and Draco’s eyes glided over the same sight he’d appreciated every Tuesday and Friday as one foot fell in front of the other. He greeted Mary pleasantly, the old women who was there every morning regardless of the day as she’d told him, always in the same spot. She grinned and told him to shoo off to stand in line so he wouldn’t be late, and he easily replied she was easily worth being late for. She did a proper shoo’ing motion at him after that one, and he turned away with a smile to do as instructed. Although the line in question was only one person long.

He walked up and opened his mouth but was interrupted by the barista, Otto.

“Medium black coffee and a croissant sandwich, Draco?”

Draco held a hand over his heart. “Ah, but can you guess ham or turkey?”

Otto narrowed his eyes at Draco, punching in the order absentmindedly. Croissant sandwich costed the same regardless of meat choice, after all.

Truth be told, Draco hadn’t made up his mind yet for which he wanted.

“Turkey. Definitely. I can hear it in your voice, you’re practically gobbling.”

“Spot on. One day, you’re going to be accused of Legilimency.”

“Oh, I hope so.” Otto awarded Draco with a large grin. “Only if it’s you doing it though, so I can finally get that number.”

“Or accused of harassment.”

“Well, that one would certainly have to be by you, then.”

“Oh?” Draco opened up his wallet and handed over the money, exact change, and Otto sent him a wink as Draco’s hand brushed his fingers. “You trying to pretend I’m the only regular you flirt with?”

“Of course not!” Otto put the money away with his free hand, and his other was mimicking Draco’s previous drama of his hand over his heart. “I’m simply saying,” He slipped away from the counter to put Draco’s sandwich into the toaster-oven and pour him his coffee. “That you’re the only one that doesn’t blush furiously when I do.”

“Much more believable.” Otto was inarguably attractive, after all. The bright yellow of the uniform that drowned out the other workers stood stark and gorgeous against his dark skin, and only managed to make his eyes seem even more pastel in their grey against it’s vibrance. Draco thought Otto may be the only person who the uniform served to make look more gently stunning. 

“You always get my hopes up with comments like that.” Coffee passed over, and Draco wrapped his hands around the warmth. “And when you hold things like that.” 

Draco rolled his eyes at the following wink. “You always come so close to seducing me and then you have to go and make it lewd.” 

Otto’s eyes sparkled as he laughed. “Merlin, I really am going to get in trouble for harassing you one of these days. Can’t quite keep myself from it.”

“A pity. Otherwise I’d have you replace Blaise in a heartbeat.”

“Oh?” The timer dinged, and Otto got out the sandwich but didn’t hand it over right away, too curious to let Draco slip away that easily. “Looking to break up with a boyfriend, are you?”

Draco snorted delicately. “Goodness, no. A _friend_ and bedfellow actually recently just got one of those, and now said bed is cold and lonely. Are you going to hold my sandwich hostage?”

“No need, got my answer.” Draco’s food was surrendered. “Left my number on the bag!” Otto called after him as Draco turned to leave.

In response, Draco glanced back over his shoulder and called back, “You always do!” before he nodded a goodbye to Mary and pushed open the door. He looked at the number and, for perhaps the hundredth time, briefly considered adding it to his phone. A one hundredth decision of no, but he smiled fondly at it regardless and sat down on a nearby bench to eat his breakfast and polish off his coffee before he stood up and apparated near the Ministry of Magic. 

He walked in, receiving mostly a pointed lack of eye contact but a few curt nods on the way to his office. He opened the door and stepped in, checking for traces of magic only after the door was closed, and then sat down at his desk and opened the file he’d left back up to continue working on it.

After only a few hours, he heard the flutter of paper wings beating against his door. He opened it to let the bird in, and it promptly dove at his desk then flattened upon impact.

Draco tsk’ed softly, because it took the same amount of work to let the thing just fall into his hands and unfold there. He trundled back to his desk regardless, glancing down to the paper. It was another task no Auror would deign to handle themselves. Draco picked it up, finding somewhere close to the address he knew before he sighed resignedly. Some Mr. Dursley had apparently had his home broken into. Draco vaguely thought he recognized the name, but he’d find out too soon to worry about it anyway.

He picked out a notepad and pen from his desk, sliding them into his shirt pocket, then walked out of the Ministry and apparated to a place near the address he’d been given. It didn’t take long to find, in the end, given after finding the street it became clear it was more of a pathway than anything, with only one rather small house at the very end. 

Certainly out of the way enough to be a decent place to break into, but it hardly looked expensive enough to be worthwhile. Still, Draco took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Inside was the faint sound of scrambling, and then barking, and then the door opened to reveal Harry Potter.

Who started saying, “N--!” just as Harry Potter’s puppy leapt out and onto Draco, and the surprise almost made him lash out but he schooled himself to not, which took the effort he would have put into not falling down. So Harry Potter’s puppy took out Draco Malfoy, esteemed Auror. To add insult to the very serious injury, it immediately started licking his face happily.

Potter seemed mortified, which was honestly what Draco realize the whole thing was absolutely hilarious, and he started laughing. Got a distressed nip to his nose for his troubles, too, as the puppy was apparently not thrilled by its new ground shaking with giggles. 

Draco stood up, picking the puppy up as well and handing it over to Potter. Who accepted it uncomfortably, staring at Draco in shock.

Then staring at his robes in shock, which was then replaced by a different type of confusion, and then replaced again by a third type of surprise. 

“You’re an Auror? They sent an Auror? If they worked out it was me, why’d they send you?”

Really, Draco was meant to be asking the questions. “I thought the name Dursley was familiar.”

Potter sighed, and the puppy was attempting to squirm out of his arms, so he stepped back and left the door opened while he carefully placed it into a cage.

Draco stepped into apparently-Potter’s-house, glancing around before he spotted the broken glass and the lack of window it had seemingly come from. 

Broken into indeed. Made more sense, knowing it was Potter. Probably a fan wanting to nick something the Savior had touched. 

“I-- didn’t mean you were bad.” Potter said quietly.

“Hm?” Draco glanced back over to him.

“When I asked why they sent you.”

“Oh, no offense taken.” While they’d definitely been more amniacable eighth year, mostly due to petty jabs feeling pointless after everything, it had been no secret that they’d never been friends. And had also been no secret Potter and Weasley had been the best of friends, so he’d have made more logical sense to send as an Auror. “Simple: your fake name worked perfectly.”

“Then why’d they send an Auror?”

Well. The lack of Auror level tasks Draco got assigned wasn’t quite something he wanted to discuss with the Boy Who Lived, but answering would be faster than avoiding it. “I do the safe tasks.”

“Oh. Cause--”

“Yes, because of being a former Death Eater. Well clocked.” Okay, some petty jabs still had a point. 

“But that’s--”

“Yes, well, it wouldn’t look very progressive to refuse me joining entirely, now would it?” Or maybe Potter still managed to just prickle Draco despite all the non-prickling progress he’d made. 

Potter fell quiet. “I didn’t know you’d become an Auror. Congratulations.” 

It was very difficult to not say something else rude. Clearly, it was in title only. “I didn’t know you’d moved into the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah, that was. The point, really.”

Draco raised an eyebrow.

“Not you specifically! Oh, Merlin.” Potter looked just about ready to disintegrate, which was amusing at the very least. “Just. Away from prying eyes. _People_ not knowing where I was, was… the point.” He cleared his throat. “Really. Not you in particular. Can we talk about my shattered window, now?”

“I would love to.” Not that Draco wasn’t very heavily amused by Potter’s trademark floundering, but the whole thing was decidedly weird and Draco would prefer to get it over with. He went over to the window, glancing around the scene. “So?”

Potter joined him, standing close and smelling as nice as ever. Which served to further annoy Draco. “Yeah, I just… came home to find it smashed.”

“Anything missing?”

Potter flushed a deep red, and Draco stared at him impassively.

“Potter?”

“Yes! Yeah. Uh. Hairbrush, some, uh, underwear…” He trailed off.

In that ‘there’s one more thing I’m not telling you type of way’. Which was prolonging Draco’s presence there, which he was very certain neither of them wanted, and he sighed. “If you want me to get someone else to take care of your case--”

“No, it’s fine!”

Draco didn’t like being interrupted, but it was something he’d gotten used to while training and being an Auror.

“Uhhhtheystoleadildotoo.”

 _Potter is gay_. Easily the least appropriate immediate reaction for Draco to have, but in his defense, he’d spent a fair amount of his life being gay for a supposedly straight Harry Potter.

Silence apparently being taken for disgust, Potter straightened up defiantly and started to talk. “If you don’t want the case just because of--”

“It’s fine.” Draco did not need Potter filing a prejudice complaint against him, Merlin. That was exactly the type of thing the whole Ministry of Magic wanted, Draco would be out before the receiver even had a chance to finish reading it.

“Really?”

Draco leveled Potter with a tired look. “I am quite allowed to not be a bigot, you know.”

He had least had the decency to look ashamed for assuming. “Sorry. I guess I’m still a bit touchy about it.”

“I’d be touchy if my dildo got stolen too.”

The look on Potter’s face was absolutely worth every bit of hate and dismissal that Draco had put up with since the beginning of his Auror training. Potter sputtered (adorably), failing entirely to come up with a response, much to Draco’s delight.

He would have started laughing again if he didn’t think Potter would take it to mean he was laughing at the idea Potter was gullible enough to think Draco was gay, instead of laughing at Potter’s incredulity that Draco was gay. “Anything else that might help?”

“I-- uh-- it was probably just some fan.”

“Yes, that was my theory as well.”

“Right.”

Dear Merlin, he was still shaken up about the revelation of Draco’s sexuality. One would think Potter had been the one secretly fancying Draco for years, really. Or, more realistically, lusting over him while deeply and thoroughly hating everything else about him.

“Do you want some coffee?”

“Not even a minute after finding out I’m gay and you’re already asking me on a date.”

“Not like that!” He looked even more distressed, which Draco had been unconvinced was possible. He was, however, then convinced. “I meant now. I have a pot brewed, and I figure you’ll want to poke around my… well, the crime scene, so. May as well do it with a cup of coffee.”

Savior of innocents and caffeine-needers alike, apparently. “I already had some coffee today.” Draco paused. “But thank you for the offer.” His mother would quite likely be disappointed in him if she found out he wasn’t on his best manners around Potter, and through it all, the idea of disappointing his mother didn’t sit well.

He also got to see Potter react with surprise again, although not nearly as strongly as the last time. “You’re welcome.” He sounded like he hadn’t expected to say it, and looked faintly puzzled just afterwards.

“Maybe another time.” Draco said before he returned his attention back to the window sill, ignoring the quiet stutters coming from Potter that eventually faded as the man left to go get himself a cup of coffee, presumably. 

He found primarily nothing, which raised his suspicions. An ameatur fan desperate for a piece of the Boy Who Lived would have had to been impossibly lucky to not leave a strand of hair, a drop of blood from all the glass, a thread of fabric, anything. Draco crouched down to look closer at the spread of the glass, tilting his head in thought. 

“Don’t Aurors’ have partners?”

In interrupted thought. Fantastic. “No one’s willing.” Draco said simply, standing back up to meet Potter’s gaze. “At the time of the break-in, how long were you gone?”

Potter blinked. “An hour?”

They had to have been waiting, then. Potter was too far out of the way to luck into that small gap without getting caught and without leaving any trace as just an extreme fangirl. “Everything they took was not recently cleaned, then?”

That deep flush was back, but Potter didn’t argue the relevance of the question. “No.”

Draco sighed. “Fantastic. You need to come with me to the Ministry; it appears that once again, you are probably in grave danger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is the harry potter fandom dead? probably. am i choosing now, after death, to write my first drarry fic? yeah.
> 
> also proof reading who? betaing what? never heard of them and for that i apologize


	2. As Usual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to deal with danger: a step by step guide in sighs.

Potter let out an annoyed groan. “I really, really hoped you weren’t going to say that. Are you sure? Can’t the high cost of my embarrassing possessions just be in danger due to flooding the market?”

“I didn’t realize there already were your unmentionables and or toys on the black market.”

Potter sent Draco a glare. Which was fair, really. “Are you sure?”

“Enough to bother both of us with the hassle of making sure.”

“Fine. Can I bring my dog?”

Well, people couldn’t, but Harry Potter probably could bring a hippogriff into the Ministry if he so wanted to, so Draco shrugged a shoulder. “I’d at least bring it a carrier.”

Potter walked over and picked up the cage, puppy included, like a pebble.

Great. The strength of Harry Potter was not the focus right now, but instead the safety of his person. The amount of muscles underneath his clothes was irrelevant.

“She, you know.”

Draco blinked.

“My dog. She.”

“Is that her name?”

“I haven’t… named her yet.”

Sounded responsible. Draco sighed. “Okay, well, we can talk about your dog at the ministry. Where, you know, you’re notably safer than you are here.” It was like trying to heard an animal, Merlin. “Unless you really missed being at risk that much.”

Potter muttered something under his breath, and Draco caught ‘never did’ but that was all given he’d already moved to the door and then outside it, and then Draco held out his arm for Potter to take. Which was accepted, albeit reluctantly. “You’re not going to kill my dog, are you?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” But what a kind vote of confidence for Draco’s ability to perform a spell he’d mastered back in school. He took out his wand and flicked it, and they appeared in the alley next to the Ministry. 

When Draco glanced over to him, Potter looked rather queasy. He’d probably gotten un-used to it all, after practically retiring from the world altogether. After he no longer looked nauseous, he checked the comfort levels of his puppy. Who had flat ears and a tucked tail but was noticeably fine physically, and Potter let out a sigh of relief. 

Stepping out onto the street, Potter immediately drew eyes. Which really, Draco should have expected. “We probably should have brought a disguise for you to wear until you were in level two.”

“Yeah.” He hid his dog from view, like he had something dangerous to shield her against. “I’d almost managed to forget people staring.”

“Must be nice.”

Before Potter could comment, Draco gestured him through the door with a hurrying sound, and then guided him to the Auror department, and there was immediately whisperings that got progressively less quiet as they walked to the head office. They’d almost gotten there, too, when a certain ginger came bursting out of the woodwork.

“Harry! What the hell are you doing here?”

Potter looked guilty more than anything, and Draco sighed right before Weasley turned on him accusationally.

“Did you bring him in for something stupid? I swear, Malfoy, this grudge match--”

“I believe Potter actually looks like a kicked puppy because he feels bad for not calling you to inform you that his house was broken into, rather than being caught for littering and me taking advantage of my very secure position here to annoy him over it.”

That worked nicely, as Weasley whirled back around to glare at an even more guilty looking potter. “Your place got broke into and you called _Malfoy_?”

Well. No need to say his name quite that disapprovingly. Draco, regardless of friendship levels with Potter, was still an Auror. He’d done better in training than Weasley as well, to boot.

“I just filed a normal report with the MLEP.”

“They would have sent me.”

Draco glanced back over to Harry. The whole conversation was proving quite amusing, given that this time Draco didn’t have to be a part of it.

“I used a fake name.”

“They wouldn’t have sent an Auror.”

_Maybe not an--_

“Maybe not an Auror who got treated with proper respect.” Potter crossed his arms.

Weasley’s mouth fell open. Draco’s almost did the same thing, and he was sure his eyes widened enough to be noticable-- which was significantly more emotion than he’d allowed himself to show at work before.

“Well.” Both sets of eyes turned to Draco. “As much as I’d love to watch you two fight over my honor, I have reason to believe there’s a notable threat either to Potter or using Potter against his will, and I’d prefer to not waste more time. So, if you don’t mind…”

Weasley pointed a finger at Potter. “You’re catching me up when you have time.”

“Mate, I don’t even know why Malfoy thinks I’m gonna die yet.”

“I didn’t want to waste time explaining to you when you’re going to be there while I explain to Head Auror Karim.” 

“I’m going with, then.”

“I’m fine, Ron.”

“I really don’t care, but can we please just get going? I work long enough hours as is.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Fantastic.” That had taken far too much work. Draco took the two steps necessary to be in arm’s reach of Karim’s office, and he knocked swiftly. Only a few heartbeats passed before the door was opened, and Karim’s eyes raised to see Draco flanked by Weasley, Potter, and a puppy in a cage.

“I assume there’s a good explanation for this?” She asked.

Weasley muttered, “I hope so.” And Draco fought down yet another sigh.

← →

Weasley had been forced to stand, when it became clear he wasn’t actually involved. There were only two seats, after all. Draco could feel him glowering at the back of his head.

“So.” Karim folded her hands together. “You were sent to investigate a break in, which just happened to be the house of Mr. Potter, and came to the conclusion he is being targeted by a nefarious potions master?”

“Most likely a potions master.” Draco corrected.

Karim slowly took in then measuredly let out a long and deep breath.

Draco could relate. 

“Why do you think this?”

“It was too professional of a break in to not raise alarm bells. The time constraint of Potter being out of the house was small, so it had to be fast. There was much in the room the broken window resided in that could have been stolen, either for straight monetary value or to priced up to sell off to crazed fans, but instead the thief went to the bedroom. The items that were stolen seemed to be things that would have DNA on them, which can be used in many various potions to either harm Potter specifically, take the likeness of him which would undoubtedly given the perpetrator access to many branches of government, or aide in controlling Potter in some way.”

Everyone’s eyebrows shot up except for Draco’s and the puppy’s.

“Wait.” Potter put his hand on the desk. “Seriously?”

Eloquent as always. “Yes.” Draco said. “Seriously.”

“How can we stop it?” Weasley, although annoying and far too ginger for his own good, was a welcome help at not getting the conversation off track.

A few heartbeats of awkward silence passed before Draco realized that question was directed at him. He had to push down a sound of surprise before he spoke. “I recommend a team going over the scene to check for any magical remnants we could potentially trace and Potter to be under twenty four hour surveillance until we have the perpetrator caught.”

Karim started to nod, but was interrupted by a scandalized looking Potter when she opened her mouth to speak.

“I can look after myself!”

“You can defend yourself from attack, but you can’t restrain yourself if you’re being controlled mentally. Or be a witness to yourself not being at a crime where someone might have polyjuiced themselves into appearing as you before committing it. Or keep an eye out for you behaving oddly in smaller ways.”

Karim held up her hand, and both Draco and Potter obediently fell silent. “I’m sorry, Mr. Potter, but this is not only about your safety, but the safety of others. Mr. Weasley can take point and be your guard.”

Well, honestly, Draco hadn’t thought he would keep the case. He’d never be given something as high profile as a Harry Potter case. Simply wasn’t trustworthy. 

Potter had other ideas. “What! It’s Malfoy’s case!”

Weasley looked hurt. “Harry, he just…”

“...doesn’t have that much experience.” Karim finished for him.

Which was true. Hardly Draco’s fault, but true.

“I reckon he has more experience with looking out for my weird behavior and catching me while I’m trying to sneak away than anyone else does.” Potter argued, a defiant gleam in his eyes and the very distinct posture of a man who was unwilling to yield. “This is unfair. It’s his case, he’s a fully qualified Auror, more qualified than... a lot of the people in here, and he’s saved my life before so I figure he has a high success rate with it.”

Weasley had apparently caught the stumble where Potter was about to say Draco was more qualified than him. He looked more hurt. Which again, was true. Except it actually was his own fault for not spending more time studying for his N.E.W.T.s during eighth year.

“...Fine.” Not even the Head Auror could really argue against Harry Potter, especially when everyone knew the decision was based primarily on prejudice. “If you want Malfoy to be your bodyguard, that’s up to you. As long as Malfoy’s willing to house you while we get your home processed.”

The thought of another person entering Draco’s home was terrifying, and it took all he had to not let that terror show on his face. But Potter had stuck his neck out for Draco, and this first case could lead to other cases that were Auror levels of difficulty and importance. If Draco said no, he would not get another chance, and would be stuck on ant picking for the rest of his career. “Of course.”

It seemed to have dawned on Potter for the first time that this meant being around Draco twenty four hours a day, and temporarily living with him, and he seemed unsure what to do with himself in reaction. Hero complex was fighting hard against his discomfort with the thought. “It’s a good thing I got my dog already, then…”

Oh Merlin, the puppy would be moving in too. Of course. Because what Malfoy needed in his house was an untrained, new enough to not even be named ball of destructive energy and insanity. 

It would take a few days for them to go over the scene. Magically, then just to look physically for anything Draco had missed. They’d check the rest of the house as well. The clean up would take another day or two, with everything needing documenting and packing up and storing. Just under a week, assuming that nothing unexpected happened.

Just under a weak of living with Harry bloody Potter and his poorly behaved pup.

Draco closed his eyes and reminded himself of all the wonderful opportunities this would bring. It would be worth it. It would be entirely and utterly worth it. 

Weasley said, “If you need anything--” right as Karim said, “Well, that seems like everything--” and Potter said, “I guess we should--”

Both men fell silent, and Karim gave a small nod of acknowledgement. “Seems like everything is in order. I’ll get the crime scene taken care of. And Malfoy, I expect daily reports.”

“Of course.” Draco stood up, and Potter scrambled to join him before he remembered the dog and picked her up as well. “I will write up mine for today and have it to you tomorrow morning, if that is satisfactory.”

“Quite. Dismissed. Goodbye, Mr. Potter. Do stay safe.”

Potter gave her a crooked grin. “Thank you, Auror Karim. Have a good evening.”

She nodded, and the three -- four, including Potter’s handheld -- filed out of the room.

The moment the door was shut, Weasley sent Draco a nasty glare. “I swear, if anything happens to him--”

“I assure you that the threat to my job far outweighs whatever threat to my person you’re about to spew.”

Potter stepped between them, giving Weasley a look that Draco didn’t see but was enough to make Weasley throw his hands up before leaving after a simple, “Call me later.” at Potter.

Which meant Potter’s full attention turned to Draco.

Wonderful.

“You care more about your job than yourself?”

Somehow, Draco got the feeling he would be repressing a lot of sighs in the upcoming days. Potter seemed to have an endless parade of questions, and they’d likely simply increase the more information about Draco he got. “I am unable to stop Head Auror Karim from firing me, but I am entirely capable of stopping Weasley from hurting me.”

“He passed training too, you know.” 

Eyerolls were added along side sighs on the list. Draco started walking to the entrance before he deigned to reply. “He’s too much like you. There’s a reason I got higher marks than him.”

Draco was expecting a _What the hell is that supposed to mean?_ but apparently he hadn’t been the only one to mellow with age, because instead he just got, “What d’ya mean?”

“He relies on strength and natural affinity, not precision. You can’t use a bulldozer to get a nail into a plank.” Draco held open the door for Potter, given he had his hands full with his dog, and then offered his arm once they were out. 

“Never thought I’d hear you imply one of the Weasleys was powerful.”

“Well, it came with an insult, so my upbringing is satiated.” 

Potter gave a look that looked like a cousin few times removed of guilt, although the exact emotion Draco was unable to place, and then accepted the arm. 

Draco apparated them just behind the then-closed café and Potter sent it a suspicious look. 

“Your house is… different than I imagined.”

“Good thing that’s not my house, then.” Draco turned and started walking again, and Potter fell quiet. He paused to read the sign at the front of the establishment when they’d gotten there, and Draco waited very patiently.

“Why here?”

“It’s nearby.” 

“Why not in your house?”

“I have wards.”

“Why not behind your house?”

Draco hadn’t bothered to have a prepared excuse, so he just gave a shrug. “It’s a nice walk.” Better than _I don’t want anyone to trace my magic back to my house directly from the Ministry_ , because he already knew what that sounded like and didn’t need anyone to tell him. Potter would have enough to make fun of Draco for when he went to his home.

For some undoubtedly ridiculous reason, that blush made an encore. “Oh. Okay.”

At least it wasn’t as blatantly deep, that time. Maybe more of rock concert and the final added song was acoustic. Maybe Draco should drop metaphors after their first time around. Still, he didn’t comment on it so the electric guitar wouldn’t make a return ( _seriously, it tore with the last stretch_ ) and Potter turned away from the sign to Draco, so Draco started walking again.

Sadly, despite the fact Draco had oh so politely not spoken a singular word about Potter’s skin going from walnut to wine, it got worse on its own during the walk. To be fair, it was probably because Potter seemed to be incapable of reading silences as anything other than uncomfortable and embarrassment seemed to be his default. 

He didn’t force any conversation though, just pointedly didn’t look at Draco and instead kept his focus on what happened to be around. Namely, the flowerful trees. It was actually rather lovely seeming them with the sun shining almost directly down, instead of the usual right at sunrise in the summer and before even the sun’s edge in winter. They seemed happier, almost. Which would be a much more ridiculous description had Draco lived in a muggle neighborhood where trees didn’t do such things as have emotions, but well, one never quite knew when it came to wizard ones.

Potter had taken to walking just barely in front of Draco, as though he knew the way they were going, which lead to a terribly amusing moment where Draco stopped in front of his house and Potter continued plodding away confidently. 

Draco simply cleared his throat, and Potter craned his neck around before he went, “Oh.” and then the rest of his body turned too. 

His eyes went to Draco’s house.

Clearly, Potter’s statement about the café applied to the actual deal as well.

“Going to make a comment about size?”

Potter snorted. “Not like I have you beat.”

“Pity.” Draco brushed past him but could practically hear Potter’s eyes widen anyway, and he allowed himself a short-lived smile before he got to his door. Potter already knew of the wards, so Draco didn’t try to hide checking them -- although Potter probably had only assumed Draco meant anti-apparition wards, as those were incredibly common, and didn’t expect Draco to be standing there for a good few seconds.

Bless incessant practice making Draco faster than most others, it probably looked like he only had an additional three or four more than Potter had been expecting. None of them had been set off. He did a few quick detection spells just in case. Still nothing. Draco put a lot of effort into trying to will himself to open the door, but after a second with his hand hovering just in front of the doorknob and Potter standing nearby growing increasingly confused, Draco grit his teeth and checked his wards for the second time, then he opened the door a touch more aggressively than necessary because otherwise he wouldn’t have at all.

He walked in before holding it open for Potter, who looked rather tentative about saying anything but did definitely appear to be planning on saying something.

“Home sweet home.” Draco declared before he had the chance to, effectively rejecting Potter’s curiosity. 

“It’s… nice.”

It was, to be fair. The outside looked simple enough, but Draco was still rich. He prefered to live nicely, he just didn’t require obscene amounts of room to do so. Besides, big places meant -- well. Big places just didn’t suit him, as it’d turned out. For no reasons in particular, none at all. “Thank you.” Draco closed the door, locked it, and hesitated before he checked the lock twice then glanced over to Potter.

Thankfully, Potter was still looking around instead of at Draco, and Draco almost let out a sound of relief. 

“I don’t have a guest bedroom.” The thought of an extra room Draco wouldn’t often be in made him uncomfortable. “I’ll take the couch, g--”

“It’s your house and your bed. I’ll take the couch.”

Thank Merlin. If Potter had accepted that offer Draco probably would have just packed up all his things and left the country, never to be heard from again. “If that’s what you want.” He had a nice couch, though. Never fell asleep on it, would never dare, but he’d definitely had some days where he lounged out of a desperate need to not do anything productive or worthwhile for a sequential string of hours.

“I’m already intruding enough.”

Damn well he was. However, even that intrusion was to help Draco get some recognition at his job, really. It was as bloody hard to actually be mad at Potter for anything as it always had been. “I have spare linens, I’ll go get them out of the closet.” 

“I can--”

“If you’re confident in your ability to tell which of the two sets in there are dirty and which is clean, you’re more than welcome to fetch them yourself. Might be a bit of a sticky situation if you chose wrong, however.”

There was a slight delay before that red returned. Draco smirked, pleased with himself. 

“I’ll be right back.” They were only in the hallway closet, after all. He pulled out the emerald set, a duvet given how cold he kept the house at night and a pillow cover.

He only had pillows in his room.

Time to find something to distract Potter with, then. He came back, placing the folded blanket on the couch and glanced down to the caged creature on the floor before looking over to Potter. “Pillows are in my room. Mind making us some tea while I get one? Steeper is in the cupboard directly above the kettle.” The kettle itself was on the counter, and the various types of teas Draco had were all displayed neatly on a shelf.

Given the instructions that followed, Potter couldn’t quite say no. He probably wouldn’t have anyway, wouldn’t want to be rude, but it was still better safe than sorry. “Course. What type do you want?”

Draco’s eyes glittered with amusement. “What, think I’m too spoiled to have just one type of tea in the house?”

Potter rolled his eyes. “Even I have more than one type, and I spent my childhood living under some stairs.”

Fair. “Green box with yellow flowers.”

“Pretty.”

“I’ve never been known to shy away from the feminine. Well, except in the most literal sense.”

The shock must have passed after the whole death threat thing had become the primary worry, because Potter just smiled. “You’re good at those.”

“What, gay jokes?”

“Well. Double meanings in general, but yeah, I guess. Gay jokes specifically.”

“I’ve been honing them in my head my whole life.”

Potter tilted his head slightly. Showed curiosity the same way a dog did, good Merlin. “Not out loud?”

Another topic Draco wasn’t overly enthusiastic to spring into with Potter was his personal level of outness and when what parts of that outness had happened. “Tea?”

“Right.” Potter paused. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“I mean-- I didn’t mean to prise.”

Well, Potter hadn’t really prised so much as attempted than failed to prise, but Draco gave a small shrug. “It’s only natural to be curious, given you’re closeted.” 

“What, because I wasn’t thrilled to tell a former classmate about my sex toy?”

“Because you dated only women throughout schooling.”

“Doesn’t mean no one knew.”

“No, but given Weasley’s inability to let things lie, if he knew rumors would have started.”

Potter’s eyes hardened defensively, but Draco held up a hand before Potter had a chance to say anything.

“I’m not saying he’d start the rumors, clearly. But nudging you then looking pointedly at a man would eventually be spotted, and you know how much people like to talk about the chosen one.”

Potter crossed his arms. A different type of defensive. “He knows now.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything.” Not that Draco wasn’t deadly curious, of course. But it was the well-mannered thing to say.

“I know.” Potter also probably knew Draco was saying it just to say it. “Not many people do know. Not anyone else who’s…”

“Gay?”

“Not straight.” Potter corrected.

So the thing with Ginny had been a proper thing after all, then. Draco went back to disliking her immediately, for completely and entirely unrelated reasons. “Well, if you need the birds and the bees talk as far as two pricks go--”

“Draco!”

Really, given that they would be living together for a little while, Draco supposed being on a first-name basis was allowable. “Sorry, I get crude when I’m craving tea.”

“Alright, point taken! I’m going, I’m going.”

Draco laughed, and he shared a secret look with the puppy before going to his room and opening the door, grabbing the string and placing it back in the door when he closed it, picking a pillow up off his bed and taking the cover it, going back over to the door and opening it and catching the string before it touched the ground then closing the door with the string stuck back in it. He returned to the sofa, slipping the green emerald cover over the pillow and placed it on top of the duvet before he joined Potter in the kitchen.

He recognized which tea was his by the color, and leaned down to sniff the other cup. “Trouble sleeping?”

Potter glanced over to the box labeled ‘easy dreams.’ “Sometimes.”

Draco straightened back up, sending Potter a curious look. “Dreamless sleep would help more.”

“Too addictive.”

More than just sometimes, then. “I have a weaker version of it. In exchange it's not addictive.” 

“Physically.”

Right. Draco couldn’t argue against emotional dependence, considering how quickly he went through the stuff. “Hope the tea helps.”

“Dog does too.”

That explained that. “Should at least give her a name to thank her.”

Potter fished out the teabags with a spoon, placing them both in the trash. “Maybe you could help me think of one.”

Draco picked up his mug. “Maybe.” He murmured, bringing it up to his lips to blow softly on the surface. “Not like I really have anything else to do for the next few days, now is it?”

Potter sent him a guilty grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i proofread this 1 (one) time which is progress so shoutout to me for character development 
> 
> also follow [my tumblr](http://symptomofsin.tumblr.com/) if you want it's a mess of pretty much everything


	3. Settling In

There was a little bit of Potter getting settled more, having a good poke around the house and letting yet-unnamed-shedding-machine frolic around contently. He’d thoroughly investigated the kitchen and living room, looked confused at all the various potion ingredients lining Draco’s basement and ultimately decided against touching anything, he’d looked surprisingly delighted at the modest library Draco had made out of a guest bedroom, and found the bathroom. Most of his nosiness had happened out of Draco’s sight, as he’d stayed in the living room attempting to teach the puppy the idea of ‘sit’. It was not going as well as Potter’s resolve to explore Draco’s house.

Soon enough, Potter appeared outside the bedroom door, hand reaching for the knob, and Draco glanced up. “I would rather you didn’t.”

Potter’s hand didn’t even brush against the metal. “Oh-- right. Your room, is it?”

Draco nodded. “Filled to the brim with bizzare sex toys. Don’t want you judging me so early on.”

“It’s really hard to tell when you’re joking, you know.”

“Not my fault. I was raised with a stiff upper lip.” He glanced down to see the dog’s muzzle stuck into his mug, licking at the remaining few droplets of tea in it, and frowned slightly. “She’s very enthusiastic.”

Potter padded over, a small smile on his face. “She is. Except after bedtime, she calms down after that.”

“Didn’t realize you had given her such strict parenting rules. Does she have to be awake for school the next day?”

“My bedtime, dolt.” He leaned down and scooped her up, getting an immediate barrage of puppy nips to his arm for his time. “She only wakes me up when-- when it’s not bad for her to.”

“Nightmares.” Draco had thought Potter already realized he’d admitted that by saying she helped with sleep. But perhaps he simply didn’t think Draco would make the connection.

Potter held the dog tighter, and her ears flattened but she stopped biting. “Yeah.”

The dog looked at Draco. He picked up his mug and took Potter’s as well, making his way to the kitchen and running hot water in the sink before pouring some soap onto a sponge. 

Potter appeared a few heartbeats later. “You made a less addictive version of dreamless sleep.”

Sponge under the steaming spray, and then Draco started washing Potter’s mug. “I’m starting to see why you didn’t become an auror.” 

Potter let out an amused sound. “That a jab at me for being slow on the uptake, or for being too busy dealing with nightmares to hold something like a job?”

“Maybe a bit of both.” He set the first mug to the side then picked up his own, giving it the same treatment. 

“You’re holding one though.” The dog was starting to wiggle.

Draco shrugged as he placed his cup on the drying rack, then glanced over to Potter. “Just nightmares aren’t enough to stop me.”

“It’s not just nightmares, though, is it?”

Draco stared back evenly. Sometimes he wondered just how fast Potter, Ron, and Hermione had become best friends if Potter had been this pushy and honest right from the start. They must have known each other’s deepest secrets within minutes.

“Sorry.”

“It’s either the job or the manor.”

“W-- dog!” She’d successfully wiggled herself free and sprinted away, presumably to tear up some of Draco’s furniture. “Ah, sorry. What d’ya mean?”

“Either I have my job, or I have to live at the manor. Savings won’t keep forever.”

“That really so bad?”

“Manor means marrying into a good family.”

Potter’s eyes furrowed. “Sounds like something you’d do anyway.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Means marrying a woman of a good family.” He clarified. 

“Oh, so you’re completely--”

“Yes.”

“That makes sense, really.”

 

“Stereotyping, Potter?”

Potter looked alarmed for a heartbeat before he saw the teasing smile of Draco’s lips and the amused crinkles around his eyes. “There was a rumor you were a bottle blond.”

Draco’s mouth opened. Not nearly enough to count as a jaw drop, but his lips did part in indignant surprise. “I was _what_?”

“You know, bleach.”

“I’m aware of it, Potter.” Draco narrowed his eyes at nothing in particular. “Bet Pansy started it. Bitch.”

“Wha--” Potter did genuinely look taken aback. “I thought you two were friends!”

There was only a slight pause before Draco laughed, bringing up a hand to cover his mouth in an attempt to stifle the giggles. “We were, and are. She calls me a bitch too.”

“That’s so rude!”

“God, gryffindors. Your friendships must be so bloody strange. Do you just compliment each other all day and talk about how many stab wounds you’d be willing to get for each other?”

“Do slytherin’s just insult each other all day!”

“Quite. It’s how we bond.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“If you don’t know someone well enough to drag them, you don’t know them well enough to call them a friend.”

“Drag?”

Oh dear Merlin. “You were not kidding about not having any gay friends, were you?”

“Not straight.” 

Draco waved his hand. “Any… Merlin, what -- LGBT friends!”

“I suspect one, but none to my knowledge.” 

“You are tragic, Harry Potter.”

He gave a crooked grin. “You called me Harry. Mostly.”

Potter really was too easily pleased for his own good. “Potter mostly, actually, since it has more letters.”

“Spoilsport.” Silence hung before Potter picked up a dishrag and went over to dry the mugs, which Draco raised an eyebrow at but didn’t comment on. 

Potter put them away after, then turned to fix Draco with a questioning look.

Draco’s eyebrow stayed firmly in place.

“So what does ‘drag’ mean?”

Draco snorted. He supposed he never had explained, just judged Potter for needing the explanation. “Pointing out someone’s faults.”

“Why?”

“Depends. Pansy and I do it to see how accurate we can be. I feel stupid explaining this.”

“It sounds like a stupid practice.”

“That’s only because you don’t live in the wonderful gay world of--”

 

“Not straight.”

Draco raised a hand to his head. “Is that the actual label you’re going for? It’s a bit of a mouthful, you know.”

Potter looked sheepish. “I haven’t really… looked into any labels.”

Fantastic. Now Draco felt like a prick for suggesting he should have one. “Merlin, I really don’t care about how labeled or unlabeled you want to be, I just want a single umbrella term I can use without you interrupting me.”

“Does not straight not work?”

“Two words. Mouthful. Also I don’t fancy defining myself by a lack of what I’m meant to be.” 

“...right. LGBT?”

“Mouthful.”

Potter threw up his hands. “Aren’t you used to having your mouth full, anyway?” 

He looked downright mortified by his own words less than a second later, and the silence that followed felt thick.

Potter glanced over to Draco, and the seconds they made eye contact they both looked away and started laughing. 

“I should probably nail a label before I come out properly, huh?” Potter said through giggles.

Draco shrugged as best he could, given his shoulders will still silently shaking anyway. “Merlin, who cares? Besides, who do you even have to come out to? You said Ron knows, so I’m guessing Hermione does too.”

“I dunno. The Daily Prophet?”

“For goodness sake, why?”

Potter didn’t look like he’d considered that. “I’m meant to, aren’t I?”

“What, send them a letter saying ‘Hey, I fuck men’ and call it a day?”

“Never really thought about it before.”

“You just feel like you have to?”

“Didn’t you feel like you had to?”

Back to this again. It was very clear Draco wouldn’t be able to avoid discussing his level out ‘outness’ the whole week, so might as well skip past the awkward skirting around and get to it. “Blaise, Pansy, and Neville know. Others, too, but people I’ve met through the community. None of them required coming out to.”

“Neville?”

“Yes, Neville.”

“Why Neville?” 

“We’re friends.”

“ _What?_ ”

Draco had not expected the shock of discovering he had made things up with Neville to outweigh circumventing Potter’s clear expectation of Draco being entirely ‘out and proud.’ “We ended up running into each other while Neville was… stressed. We talked. We’re friends now.” The rest of that story wasn’t quite his business to say.

“I lost touch with Neville.” Potter looked guilty. Like somehow Draco being friends with someone he’d stopped talking to made it more of a failure.

Rather like Potter was wondering if even Draco managed to have Neville as a friend, Potter surely had to be able to as well. “Didn’t mean to offend. I’m sure Neville would have chosen you over me if he could.”

The guilt seemed to increase. “I lost touch with a lot of people. I’ve… been quick to hop on excuses for beating myself up over it.”

Sounded like someone had started seeing a therapist. Not that Draco would ever doubt Potter’s self-awareness, or awareness at large, but that sounded not quite like his own words. The best course of action was clearly to ignore that part of the conversation had happened and backtrack to a part Draco didn’t want to be having slightly less. “There’s no rulebook saying you have to make any sort of announcement.”

“What if I get a boyfriend?”

“Then you’ll have a boyfriend.”

Potter brought up a hand to scratch the back of his neck. “But what if I want to, you know, hold his hand in public?”

“Then do.”

“You’re not getting what I’m saying.”

“I am, Harry.” Draco let out a long breath. “You feel like you need to give people a warning. I get it. Watch out, potential queer interactions ahead. But you don’t. They’ll take it how they take it either way. Some people will be crushed, some people will be delighted, but at the end of the day it doesn’t matter. You can paint your house rainbow and get owls to rain the news down over everyone if you really fancy it, but you don’t owe anyone the information.”

“Aren’t I just lying, then?”

“Does everyone know the color of your bathroom wall?”

Furrowed brows again. “No.”

“Are you lying to everyone about the color of your bathroom wall by hiding it? Some people might assume it’s neon green, you know.”

“I--” Furrowed levels increased. “No.”

“There you go.” All he needed was a metaphor in the end. “If you really want to annonce the color of your bathroom wall, it’s fine. Nothing shameful in it. But if you’re just announcing it because you feel people have a right to know in case they ever see our bathroom wall and may be surprised because of their own assumptions… well, that doesn’t seem entirely worth it.”

“Oh.”

“I’m going to go see if I can find your dog before she eats my house.”

“Okay.”

Draco turned away, silently hoping Harry had closed the door to the library lest Draco stumble upon torn pages and broken bindings.

“Draco?”

He glanced back over his shoulder.

“Thanks.”

Draco gave a half shrug. “You know me. Always ready to correct people when they’re being silly.”

← →

Thankfully, books had been spared because Harry had managed to shut the library door. The same could not be said for Draco’s sofa. The base of it had been torn open in a few places, with the devious vandalizer napping among the ripped bits of foam, and Draco had stared at the scene in contemplation for a while.

It was already sufficiently overwhelming to have someone else going to be sleeping in his home. It was already enough to have any hope of him having a proper Auror career riding on this one case. It was enough that Harry Potter was talking to him again. It was definitely enough that Harry Potter was going to be sleeping in his home, be his only hope of having a proper Auror career, was talking to him again, and had brought an untrained unnamed dog into Draco’s home as well.

The addition of having to talk about sexuality and honesty and comfort and outness and all the bullshit Draco had stressed over for years with Harry seemed like overkill. Draco had never ‘properly’ come out to anyone, anyway. It’d just gotten mentioned without much grand drama or, really, much of a reaction at all. Except Blaise, who’d practically pounced on him after Draco mentioned getting a guy’s number at a club. That had definitely been the strongest reaction. Neither Pansy nor Neville had paused the conversation to comment on it.

Draco got the inkling his mother was already relatively sure. But then, his mother always just felt like she knew more than she was letting on. Draco crouched down, running his hand through the fur on the dog’s head to gently knock off a foam flake before he started picking all of them up to fix his couch.

Who was he to tell Harry about any of it in the first place? Draco wasn’t a celebrity, he was infamous. It was probably different for Harry -- he’d come out publicly and get a line of people begging to suck his dick. Draco would just get yet another reason for everyone to hate him. Their situations were opposites; Harry should find a label and scream it to the world if he wanted to, and Draco shouldn’t have discouraged him.

The dog whined, and Draco put all the foam he’d collected in a pile on the coffee table before scratching under her chin until she fell back to a silent sleep. He picked up the rest of the torn foam before picking up the pile and placing it in front of the sofa on the opposite side the dog was on. Didn’t want her to get hit with anything during the spell.

A quick repairing wand wave later, and it was good as new. 

Harry walked in and looked down at the resting dog. “Luna, maybe?”

“Cliche.”

“Blondie.”

“Even more cliche.”

“Blondy. With a ‘y’ instead of an ‘ie’ so it’s more unique.”

“I will kick you out of my house.” 

When Draco looked over to Harry, he was smiling. “I’ll keep brainstorming, then. Don’t forget you said you would as well. Any suggestions?”

“Not as of right now, at least not anything polite.”

Harry’s smile grew. “Polite is boring anyway.”

Tempting, but nothing Draco had was clever enough for the snark to be entertaining instead of just mildly hurtful to an innocent puppy. “I’ll let you know if I can muster something worthy. In the meantime, I have a report to write.”

“‘Course.”

Draco didn’t leave right away, however. It wasn’t quite a hesitation, just… a hesitation. Quite one, in fact, and then he spoke. “I didn’t mean to imply it was something that should be hidden, either. Or ashamed of.”

“I know.”

“Good.” That was clear, then, and Draco started walking past Harry.

Harry caught his arm, and their gazes met. “If you got a boyfriend, then, would you not be scared to be obvious in public with him?”

Yes. No. Maybe. Probably and definitely. “I’m a Malfoy. I think I’ve dealt with enough public outcry that kissing a boy wouldn’t be the final peg that takes my self-esteem down.”

“But there’d be a public outcry?”

“I’m a Malfoy. There’ll always be a public outcry.”

Harry gave a soft nod and let go of his arm.

He seemed distracted enough in thought, so Draco opened his door and caught the string before he slipped inside, replaced the string, and closed the door.. Tonight, he would need help sleeping, and he went to the ensuite bathroom to down his own dreamless sleep draft, taking a quick shower and afterwards while he waited for it to settle. 

He picked up his clothes, hanging the robes on the right of the closet and his waistcoat, shirt, and trousers went to the left. Everything else went into the hamper. He finished drying off, towel joining his clothes in the hamper, and felt a slight haze tease the edges of his mind. Draco picked up the beads off his bed to place them in their container before he slide under the sheets and let the dulled dreams take him, muffled screams in his ears and distant fire warming his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to get this done and posted by sunday but that did not happen. i make no promises about when the next one will appear but HOPEFULLY (not for sure just hopefully) it should be by wednesday fortnight 
> 
> thank you so much to constellationqueen for betaing even though i did not listen to as many as her suggestions as i probably should have <3


	4. Getting (Un?)Comfortable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter continues to adjust to Draco's home.

Draco did actually get the report done that next morning. He woke up ridiculously early to do it, and then had it owled to Head Auror Karim before her shift started. He was officially off the rest of his work, given his current job was to do basically nothing except babysit Harry, so he poked his head out of his room to make sure Harry was in fact still safe and sound before closing the door back on the twine and returning to his bed. 

The next time he woke up it was to the sound of clattering, and Draco rubbed his eyes before he sat up in bed. He stood with a stretch, making his bed before setting the beads out. He pulled on trousers, an undershirt, and a button up shirt before he went out his bedroom door, catching and replacing the twine while doing so. 

The sound was coming from the kitchen.

Draco walked in to see the dog sitting in the sink, soaked to the bone. And Harry holding her down while water sprayed upon her. His hair and shirt were also soaked. 

“Did I miss a wet t-shirt contest?”

Harry jumped about five thousand feet in the air before he spun to face Draco, and then the dog immediately took her chance at freedom and jumped free of the sink. She hit the tile with a splat and then started scampering, and Harry started making sounds of distress, and Draco bent over to pick her up when she tried to run past.

Shirt hadn’t even lasted a minute of being worn. Living with Harry was exactly as taxing as Draco had expected it to be, so far.

“...sorry.” 

“Quite.” Draco held the dog more carefully in his arms, picking up a dish towel and starting to dry her off. “Is this part of the weird behavior I’m meant to be looking out for?”

“The bathroom for the library doesn’t have a, well, bath. So I figured… sink was a close enough second.”

“How incredibly practical. Did you use dish soap on her?”

“Maybe.”

Even Draco knew that wouldn’t be good for her fur. “We really need to go shopping.” 

“Yeah. Uh, before we do…”

Draco finished off drying the head of the dog before he realized Harry had trailed off and had been silent for a while. He met his gaze, narrowing his eyes slightly. “What.”

“Can I use your shower?”

The other bathroom didn’t have one. Only the bathroom in Draco’s room. Because Draco had decided to own the ultimate one-person-only house, given that he never expected anyone to be in it for terribly long. At least not anyone who didn’t already know about the twine and the beads and the wards and --

Harry was staring.

“Of course. Allow me to straighten my room up first.” He offered the dog back to Harry, who was wiggling hopefully at the less tight grip so Harry took her quickly before she could escape again.

Which had been the plan, because that was basically a non-verbal agreement to let Draco tidy.

Because Harry was definitely buying the idea that despite the rest of the house being in magazine-photoshoot shape, his bedroom was messy enough that he felt compelled to fix it up a bit before Harry saw it. Harry, who’s house Draco had already seen and therefore knew to be a bit of a tip.

Whatever. He had the dog, no backing out now, and Draco breezed past easily enough. He opened the door to his room, caught the twine, walked in, and then closed the door most of the way. Twine still in hand. 

Harry was tucked in the kitchen, returned to focus on cleaning his dog, and he couldn’t see to Draco’s door from there.

Draco stared at his door, open just enough for their to be room left on the hinge side for a piece of twine to slip through before being pinned there as it was meant to be. As it always was.

Draco’s hand tightened on the doorknob. He couldn’t very well leave it in there. Even if he opened the door for Harry to let him go use the shower and Harry didn’t notice him catch and replace the twine then, there was simply no reasonable excuse for him to insist on opening the door when Harry was done with his shower as well.

So he’d have to leave it in his pocket. The entire time Harry was in the shower. Meaning anyone could just go through it with no issue, and Draco would be none the wiser and he’d be unprotected and basically defenseless and -- 

He had to leave it in his pocket. He would not let Harry Potter be knocked out just because Draco was _worried_ about something irrational. 

So all he had to do was close the door and put the twine in his pocket. He’d be able to put it back in half an hour. Probably not even that long, he doubted Harry conditioned his hair.

So simple. Just close the door.

Just… close it.

Three. Two. One.

Draco let out a hiss through his teeth, and his hand was shaking with strain while his muscles did their best to crush the unbudging knob.

It was easy. If someone came through the front door, Draco would be there. He could see and stop them. If someone came through his bedroom window and headed for Draco through the door, surely Harry would notice and stop him. He was the great Chosen One and all. There was nothing to worry about.

It would all be absolutely fine if there was not twine in his door for half an hour. Less than.

His knuckles were turning white.

All he had to do was close the door. Then the hard part would be done, the rest would just be not changing anything.

Three. Two. One.

Slow breath out, and Draco closed his eyes. His hand relaxed on the doorknob, and then slid off, leaving the door open. He walked over to his bed, picking up his wand off the bedside table.

A compromise could be made, at least, maybe. He did an alarm spell so that when the door was opened, it would alert him through a gentle tapping feeling on his shoulder. 

So now if someone did manage to sneak past Harry, Draco would still be alerted to them coming through the door. Even if they would come through with no issues and completely alert and dangerous. 

Draco put his hand back on the door.

Deep breath in one three.

Let it out slowly on two.

Another breath in on one.

Draco closed the door.

He put the twine in his pocket.

He left the beads on the bed, because Harry had no reason to touch his bed and they weren’t visible unless they were being looked for specifically. And really, Draco’s nerves were enough alight without taking away another protection. He could manage that one, hopefully, for just a half hour. He swallowed, then moved some things around in his room so it would at least sound like he was tidying some. Everything ended up exactly where it had started, of course. His room had been picture perfect.

Draco raised a hand to his forehead, rubbing at a temple. He gave himself a few seconds to keep feeling and looking stressed before he gathered himself back up and opened the door, left his bedroom, and closed the door behind him.

He walked over to the kitchen, seeing a damp dog running around an exhausted and wet Harry who was seated on the floor. 

“Path to the shower has been cleared.” That was true, at least, even if not in the way it would be interpreted.

Harry glanced up, giving a lopsided grin. “Great. Thanks.” He got up, giving the dog a glare in the hopes it’d magically make her calm down before he stood and walked off. 

Draco stared at the dog, eyes unfocused and ears alert. The sound of the door opening made him cringe, and it the soft tap of it closing again didn’t help matters. He squeezed his eyes shut, dread starting to build deep in his stomach, and kneeled down on the floor where the dog came over to help distract him.

She licked his face enthusiastically, and he did his best to focus on being grossed out by it. Draco picked her up, holding her at arm’s length, and frowning at the ensuing bark she gave.

“You remind me of an old friend.” He told her, and she barked louder.

Annoyingly high-pitched, too. If she put some real effort in she could probably shatter a glass or two. Draco’s frown deepened. “An ex-friend.” He clarified to the uncomprehending dog, then gave a long-suffering sigh and put her down on the ground. 

She fled immediately. So much for the loyalty of dogs. He laid down on the floor, hearing the sound of water start up, and nearly cursed time for passing so slowly. He was meant to be fine until after Harry’s shower, and the thing had just begun. It felt like an eternity. From the bottom of Draco’s heart, he hoped to Merlin that Harry wasn’t the type to decompress and soak. At the very least, he felt uncomfortable enough being naked in an old enemy’s home that he hurried up and got it over with.

That was a bad thought. Draco shouldn’t want Harry uncomfortable. He was being selfish. After a huff, he stood up again and went off to find the dog. Who, thankfully, this time was not chewing on the sofa or destroying anything actually, but rather laying under the coffee table. Laying… splatted out, really. He hadn’t realized how long she was until she was stretched out and flattened as much as seemingly possible.

“If he doesn’t come out in ten minutes I’m re-cursing the door.” Draco told her, and one of her paws twitched a few seconds afterwards.

Somehow, Draco felt like it was unrelated to his words. So much for her being a guard dog, then. Really just a nightmare-helping cuddle machine after all, then. 

“That means when he does come out he’s going to be injured.”

Her paw didn’t even twitch that time.

He crossed his arms. “I’m going to injure your master and you can’t even be bothered to care. He should return you.”

Nothing.

“I’m going to throw up.”

Still nothing.

“Maybe on you, just out of spite.”

Honestly, it was like she was mocking him.

“Maybe I should just die on the spot and get it all over with. Harry can fend for himself, and you can eat my house. It’s a win for us all.”

An ear twitched, which honestly made Draco feel stupider than the lack of responses, and he brought up a hand to rub at his eye. The water, of course, was still running.

He was going to either die or throw up, and was struggling to figure out which sounded preferable. For the time being, he just collapsed down onto the couch, ignoring that it disturbed the bedding. He propped his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, his next breath coming out shuttering through the filter of dread and nausea. 

At least with his eyes closed he could focus more on listening. There wasn’t anything to hear except the water and periodically the sounds of passing cars. He stayed still for the whole time Harry was in the shower, which was definitely longer than ten minutes, and only moved once the water turned off.

He got off the couch and fixed the bedding before he went over to the kitchen and considered what to pretend he’d been doing the whole time. He heard a faint door open, then footsteps, then his bedroom door open. His body went rigid before he forced it to untense, and he turned to see Harry standing in a towel.

“I don’t have any of my clothes.”

Right. Yes. That really had entirely slipped both of their minds, hadn’t it? Draco kept his gaze on Harry’s face. “I’ll see if I can find anything that might fit you.”

Harry looked unconvinced. 

“Just for today. I will request they bring some clothes from your house over as soon as possible.”

“Alright.” Harry ran a hand through his hair, which looked much more manageable when weighed down with water.

“I’ll get you a hairbrush, too.” Sure, you weren’t meant to brush wet hair because it came out more easily, but that hardly applied to people with curly hair. He walked past Harry, who just gave a small nod, and into his room. He closed the door behind him, setting the twine back in its place, and let out a long sigh of relief.

It felt like a bag of bricks was just taken off his back. Draco closed his eyes, letting calm settle back over him, and then he parsed through his closet for the clothes he’d never wear outside of his house to save his life. They were oversized and stretchy, and hopefully Harry would be able to fit them. He took them out, careful to place the twine back when he closed the door again -- perhaps slowly, reminding himself that it was back. Then he offered them to Harry, who looked like he’d just been standing there the whole time. Looked out of it, too, and he took a second to come back to himself before he blinked and sent Draco a smile.

“Now is this one of those weird things I’m meant to be looking out for, this time?” Draco asked while Harry took the clothes.

“No, no. I just space out sometimes.”

“I suppose you’re not alone in that.”

Harry held the clothes against his chest, arms crossed. “A bit more frequently then most, though.”

“Lost in thought?”

He shook his head. “Lost in nothing.”

Right. “You should get changed. I’ll… go the kitchen.”

“No, it’s fine, I can just change in your room.”

Draco put all his effort into not reacting. “I’d prefer if you spent as little time in there as possible.”

“You literally just tidied it, though.”

“I would prefer it.”

A small frown appeared on Harry’s lips, but he relented. “I’ll change in the library bathroom.”

“Alright.”

“Is -- “ Harry fell silent.

Draco waited.

“I know I’m intruding a lot.”

“You’re helping my career.”

“And also intruding a lot.” 

Draco tilted his head.

“Thank you, I mean. For housing me while my house is… picked apart by strangers.”

“Of course.”

“Even if it’s just for your job.”

Draco gave a small shrug. “Helping out a former classmate isn’t exactly terrible, either.”

“Really?”

“Sorry, keep forgetting I’m mean. No. I hate you and your dog.”

“Hey.” Harry grinned. “Lay off the dog. She ain’t even got a name yet.”

“God, you spend too much time with Weasley.”

Harry stuck his tongue out. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

That did manage to pull a laugh from Draco, albeit short lived and soft. “Go put on clothes, ponce.”

Harry’s eyes widened slightly at the remainder of his state of dress. “Right. Yep. Okay. Be right back.”

“No rush. Just because my bedroom is out of bounds doesn’t mean we can’t--”

“Going now! Thank you ever so much for you continued hospitality, Draco Malfoy!” Harry fled before Draco could respond, and only after he was out of sight did Draco allow himself a proper grin.

← →

The clothes had turned out to fit, although not well, and Draco had sent an owl to request that Harry’s clothes be processed next if they hadn’t already then either be sent over or made available to get picked up.

“We should go somewhere.”

“Already have cabin fever, Harry?”

“A little. I spent most of my days outside.”

Somehow, Draco wasn’t surprised. He leaned back, a small smirk on his face. “Brave of you to venture out looking like that.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Maybe it’ll help me get recognized less.”

“Or make the papers more. The Boy Who Lived: Now A Fashion Disaster.”

“Now?”

Draco laughed, standing up. “Alright, it's your reputation. Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere with grass.”

“I think I can manage that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> between finals, moving, and sickness this is almost 2 weeks late. i was planning something else for this chapter, something longer, but i really wanted to get something out before i actually hit the 2 weeks late mark so..... even mORE character establishment lololol
> 
> i swear there is a plot and it will continue happening. just... next chapter!


	5. Arguments & Suspicion

They both seemed to prefer somewhere more private, having enough of a public spotlight for a few lifetimes over, so Draco chose somewhere secluded. It meant it probably wasn’t the beautiful park Harry had been expecting a Malfoy to drag him to, but it was still grass. And Harry didn’t look too terribly upset at finding himself in a rather plain field. 

Small wildflowers grew, purple and the diameter of the petaled part not reaching the width of a thumb’s fingernail, but Harry simply collapsed back into the grass and gave a long sigh.

“Should have guessed you were a nature type.” 

“I wasn’t, before everything.”

Draco tilted his head in understanding. Both of them hadn’t been a lot of things, before. He sat down next to Harry, watching the wind move the long grass in waves.

“We should have brought a picnic.”

Draco let out an amused puff of air. “Wine, too.”

“Definitely. And come out past dark, under the light of the full moon.”

“Pretty sure it’s not a full moon tonight.”

“Eh, details.”

Draco laid back, grass tickling his cheeks and neck as it danced. He could hear the faint whistle of wind worming its way through the blades, and let his eyes fall shut. Above it, louder, the grass all moving at once almost tricked his brain into hearing the ocean. The sun beating down on them helped with the illusion. He let out a content sigh.

He’d never been one much for nature, either before or after ‘everything.’ Back at the manor, nature had only been allowed in brief spurts and it was more to show off they had so much well trained house-elves that they could maintain fussy and exotic plants with ease. Nowadays Draco really just hadn’t really had much in the way of time to… well, lay in the grass and sunbathe. 

He’d been to that particular field before, of course, but at night. When the watered down dreamless sleep didn’t help enough, and the stars with their silence were comforting. It was far enough from roads and pavements that his ears might as well have been off, beyond the whistling and waves.

“Healing, isn’t it?” Harry broke the relative silence, and when Draco glanced over to him he had his eyes shut and his face towards the sky. 

Draco copied suit. “Is this what you do, then? Back at your home?”

“Yeah, pretty much. And write.”

“A memoir?” 

Harry laughed. “You wish. Fancy getting paid for being mentioned in a best-seller?”

“Maybe.” The extra money certainly wouldn’t hurt. The fortune Draco was in line to inherent -- he’d been honest when he said it would run out. Lots of money had been seized by the government, all that was left was what had been hidden without the Malfoy name or as physical gold. “What do you write, then?”

“I dunno.” Draco heard him shrug. “Stories. Happy stories, I guess.”

“A prince saving a princess from a tower after slaying a big mean basilisk?”

“Not quite.” Harry’s voice held a grin.

“A man falling in love with a puppy and bringing her home, raising her into a wonderful cloud of a dog and living sheddingly ever after?”

“Warmer.”

“A man who lays in a field and floats into peace?”

“Definitely some of that.”

“Good.” Draco said definitively. “There ought to be more stories like that in the world, I think. Going to look into getting any of them published?”

“Nah. My friends haven’t even read them.”

That threw Draco. Weasley and Granger were easily the most relentlessly supportive people Draco had ever interacted with in his life, at least where their savior was involved. He couldn’t imagine that they’d know about the stories without having poured over each line and praised every single word. “They don’t know you write.”

“No.”

Draco didn’t ask why the hell Harry was telling him, then. It was probably easier, confessing things to a man he was unlikely to really interact with again after a week. 

“Do you write?” Harry asked.

“No.”

“You should.”

“What, like a journal?”

“I’m just saying. It helps.”

“I have other ways of dealing with nightmares.”

After a few seconds of silence, Draco felt his skin prickle. 

He opened his eyes and looked over again, that time finding Harry’s gaze settled on him.

“Do you ever deal with what causes them?”

“Sure I did. Years ago. I sicked you on him.” Neither of them had blinked.

“If that was enough they would be gone.”

“I know patient confidentiality is a strong contract, but still must have been hard to find a therapist who was trustworthy enough to talk to. Most would find the temptation to sell off the information too great to resist.”

“Hermione helped me find her. You don’t have one.”

“No.”

Harry blinked, but his stare stayed. “Why not?”

Draco let his eyes fall closed. “Don’t need one.”

“Bullshit.”

He let his head turn back to the sun. “I get along fine.”

“There’s more to life than just surviving, Draco.”

“I know what just surviving feels like, Potter. Better than you’d think. I’d say better than you do, if I was allowed.”

“Why wouldn’t you be allowed?”

“Wouldn’t want to underplay how hard the war was on you.”

“So instead you underplay how hard it was on you?”

“The war was nothing. Fighting was easy.”

“Then what was barely surviving?”

“You’re not my therapist, Potter.”

“I could be your friend.”

“Could you?” Draco cut Harry a cynical look. “Imagine the public outcry.”

“Don’t. That’s not fair.”

“Maybe we should drop the conversation altogether then. Just heal how we were before.”

Harry propped himself up on his side, casting a shadow over Draco. “It’s not enough and you know it, Draco. You have to talk about it eventually.”

Draco refused to be the first one to look away. “Why? So some stranger can tell me what ice cream to eat when I cry?”

“It doesn’t have to be about advise.”

“About what, then?”

“Maybe just about finally getting to vent and mourn.”

A brief humorless laugh. “Yeah, I’d love to recount all the things I did. Sounds like a perfect way to alleviate my guilt; by dwelling on all the pain I caused.”

“What’s that string about, Draco?”

Draco swallowed thickly. “None of your business.” When had Harry even seen it? He sat up, surrendering the staring contest to face away from Harry entirely.

“What happened during the war?”

“People died. It was war.”

“What happened to you?”

“Don’t.”

“What did they make you do?”

“Nothing!” Draco snapped, a scorch of fire carving a slice out of the grass in front of him, and he heard Harry gasp before Draco forced himself to take a deep breath. “They never forced me to do anything, Potter. There was always an option. And I chose myself, each time. I’d rather have the guilt then forget what I was.”

Harry hesitated, seeming torn between commenting on the wandless magic Draco had just done versus the way he clung to his guilt. 

Taking the opportunity, Draco stood up. “We should be getting back. Your dog might be wrecking my home and it’s worth checking to see if your clothes arrived.”

“Draco…”

The voice was coming from directly behind him, not below, so Harry had stood up. Draco reached a hand out behind him and grabbed without looking, apparating them back to behind the cafe.

As much as his whole body had told him to go closer to his house so he could get away from Harry faster, even then he hadn’t been able to.

Harry took it as a sign that maybe Draco was open to talking more, given the little bit of a walk before it was back to his house, and Draco had never considered any of his quirks actual inconveniences until Harry Potter showed up in his life and made everything more difficult.

“You were just a kid.”

“I’m going to get a coffee, had a craving. Feel free to wait here.”

Point taken, Harry sufficiently deflated enough for Draco to be sure he accepted the drop of topic.

Draco walked into the cafe, with Harry following behind. Otto was standing behind the counter, and it felt like the truest blessing, and he beamed when he caught sight of Draco.

It felt like an opportunity to prove that he was okay. He managed to have friendships, interact with people normally.

Draco padded over to the counter.

“Now this is a treat. Special occasion, or did you just miss me too much to wait for Tuesday?”

“Can’t a boy change things up a bit?”

“Sure; but you don’t, gorgeous.”

Alright, well, Draco didn’t need his strict schedule broadcast to Harry because surely he’d take it as some sort of bad sign instead of just being organized. “Alright, you caught me. I wanted the sight of that garish uniform to brighten up my day.”

“You love me in the uniform.”

Draco almost went in with the usual tease about harassment, but bit his tongue due to Harry’s presence. “You do manage the incredible feat of pulling it off, but I venture you’d look better out of it.”

Otto blinked his surprise, flushing faintly at the unexpected come on, and out of the corner of his eye Draco saw Harry stiffen next to him. 

He couldn’t really take even flirting as a cry for help, could he?

“Well. Usual for you, then?”

Draco smirked, pleased to have thrown Otto off. “Of course. No sandwich though.”

“Gotcha. And your friend?”

Draco looked over to Harry. “Want anything? My treat.”

“Oh.” Harry did not look like he’d anticipated being addressed. “Mocha?”

“Hot or cold?”

“Hot?”

Otto looked like he considered asking more questions, but decided to spare Harry. Whether it was because he’d recognized him and was worried about annoying the savior of the wizarding world or just because he wanted to give a clearly anxious man a break, Draco may never know.

“Ten sickles.”

Of course. Mocha was a fancy coffee, it’d be more expensive. Nonetheless, Draco paid without complaint and gave Otto a smile before he went off to make the coffee.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but Otto interrupted by handing over Draco’s coffee -- plain black coffee wasn’t much of a puzzle to get hung up on -- and Draco smiled softly at the number written in marker next to his name.

Harry waited until went to fix his drink before he spoke again. “You two seem friendly.”

“I suppose.”

“He gave you his number.”

“Indeed he did. We’re not the only non-straight men in town, you know.”

“I know.”

Draco really didn’t need Harry being all… mopey. Just because he didn’t want to talk to a therapist, Merlin. Harry’s savior complex had not withered with age, apparently. 

“Are you going to call him?”

No. Well, Draco hadn’t before. He felt more tempted to, though, after successfully pulling a blush from the man. “I don’t know.”

“He’s pretty.” Harry glanced over to Otto, watching him finish up the mocha.

“He is.” There was no reason to deny that, although Draco oddly felt like he should.

Otto trundled over and handed over Harry’s coffee with a perfect employee grin, then sent a smaller one to Draco. “Have a good day, you two! And, of course, please come again.”

“You know I will.” Draco called, giving a tiny wave before he lead the way out. He didn’t catch whether Harry waved as well, but assumed he did, given Harry’s notoriety for always being friendly to everyone ever. Except Draco, all those years ago. But then, Draco had been very quick to prove his lack of deserving of friendliness.

They walked in silence again. Also again, Draco’s eyes were skimming over the flowered tree tops while Harry’s stayed locked to the ground. Although that time, Harry didn’t walk past Draco’s house. 

He walked up to the doorstep with Draco, and this time Draco didn’t even bother to try and willpower out of checking his wards. It just took up time and made him seem even crazier, and if he acted like it was perfectly fine and normal maybe Harry wouldn’t add it to his list of reasons why Draco was a broken man in need of some good old fashioned saving. He checked everything twice then opened his door, letting them both in, greeted by the remains of a pillow strewn along the ground and a letter just inside the door.

Draco sighed.

“You should call him.”

“Hm?” Draco took out his wand, spelling the stuffing into a pile and carefully levitating the scraps of fabric back around it.

“Always good to make friends. Or, you know, more.”

“You mean a romance?”

“Yes, Malfoy. I mean ‘a romance.’”

Finished putting the pillow back together, Draco sheathed his wand and picked up the letter before he did the same to the pillow and put it back on the couch. “Not sure that’s necessarily more than a friendship. Just a different type of relationship.”

“You…” Harry tilted his head. “You’ve never dated anyone?”

Wasn’t he meant to be slow on the take? “Never lucked upon something mutual. One of us was always disinterested.”

“Us?”

“Yeah. Me or the other person.”

“Right. That guy seemed interested.”

“He did indeed.”

“Does that mean you’re not?”

“Sounds likely.” 

Draco opened up the letter while Harry grumbled something about _cryptic prick_ , scanning over it quickly. “They found something at your house.”

Harry immediately perked up, crowding up behind Draco to read over his right shoulder. “Yeah?”

Draco held the letter more to his side so they could both read it properly. “Magical residue. Looks like the robber cast a spell.” Which was bizarre, because that was risky and shouldn’t have been needed. 

“They can trace the magical signature.”

“Also worried the perpetrator might have done something to your house. It could have already affected you. And me.”

Harry’s face was close enough to take up most of Draco’s vision when he glanced over his shoulder. “Hey. Now we’re both potentially in grave danger. Neat.”

“I always did love it when we roped each other into messes.”

← →

That time they hadn’t needed to go see Karim, thankfully -- although the dog was forced to wait in another room while how much danger Harry Potter could be in, again, was discussed and handled, again.

“Have you noticed anything off in his actions, words, preferences?”

Harry cut Draco a glance, clearly worried that he was about to make another joke. As though Draco didn’t know how to be a professional, honestly. “Not as of yet.” Although it was a bit difficult to tell, having not seen him for several years. Really, having Weasley be the head of the case probably would have been more practical.

“And Mr. Potter, have you felt off at all?”

“Nope!” Harry paused, then cleared his throat, then repeated himself. “Nope.”

“Have you noticed anything off about Malfoy?”

They met each other’s gazes. Mental health issues would get Draco kicked out of his job as fast as a prejudice complaint would. “Nope. Still snarky.”

Draco looked away first, back to the light of the wand casting various detection spells on him. 

“And you’ve been feeling fine, too?” The wand-waver in front of him asked, and she flicked the flicked the wand almost suspiciously.

“I’d venture good, even.” Draco's back wasn’t hurting nearly as much, thanks to the break from the leaning over a desk for hours and hours on end day in and day out. “A reasonable amount, though, given I’m not exactly on vacation.”

“Rude.” Harry commented.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Are we thoroughly investigated?”

“Yes.”

“And?” Harry walked closer, looking at the inspecting wand like it would be the one to give information.

“Nothing detectable on either of you.”

“That’s not very reassuring.” Harry frowned, his gaze catching Draco’s.

“We don’t really do ‘reassuring’ here, more pursuing justice.”

“Maybe sometimes justice has been served enough, and some reassurance would be good here.”

Merlin, Harry was acting like the wife of a curmudgeon. They didn’t need to take their marriage spats into public, especially in the presence of someone who was specifically looking out for weird behavior. “I get it, I should have been nicer to your dog. Can we move on?” If Draco acted like Harry was just talking nonsense, they’d have a false symptom. If he called out the shitty analogy, they’d be worried about unprofessional going-ons and pull Draco from the case.

He willed Harry to just roll with it under the enticement of a look that promised to discuss it all later, if it meant leaving off of it then.

Harry gave a dramatic sigh. “I’m just saying, her time out seemed excessive.”

“By two minutes?”

“Two cruel minutes. You were able to repair the cushion in less than that.”

“I’d say next time I’ll only give her one, but really punishment should increase on repeated offenses.”

“Draco!”

“Malfoy, Mr. Potter, please.” The Auror looked exasperated. “Because we can’t detect anything on you, it means either you’re clear or someone very powerful is at work.”

_Those are indeed the two options._ The idea that either Harry or Draco needed to be told that was laughable, but they both kept their faces straight and serious.

“Being vigilant. And Mr. Potter -- watch out for changes in Malfoy, too, if you please.”

“Is the team who surveyed the house being watched?” Draco asked while Harry just gave a simple nod.

“Yes, but that’s not your concern at this time.”

Draco frowned. “Just making sure that that equal care is being given to the non-celebrities as well.” Not that his ‘concern’ was apparently allowed. Sometimes it really rather felt like Draco couldn’t even breathe in the building without getting his head bitten off.

“Of course they are. The Ministry doesn’t tolerate unequal treatment, Malfoy.”

“Right.” Harry had never sounded so unconvinced in his life. He looked like he wanted to say more, and planned on doing so, so Draco cut in.

“Good, glad that’s all clarified. Am I to believe Potter and I may leave now?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at Draco but blessedly didn’t say anything.

“Yes. Your _dog_ is just outside.”

“My dog, actually.” Harry corrected, and the woman raised her eyebrows at him.

“Thought you would have had a snake. Speaking the same language would help with training.”

Harry coughed awkwardly. “Yeah, well. Less cuddly, aren’t they?”

“My memories from slytherin parties beg to differ. Snakes got very friendly.” 

“I really don’t want those images in my head, Draco.”

Draco raised his shoulders before letting them drop. “Your loss, we had good eye candy. Thank you for all your help, miss, we’ll get out of your hair now.”

“Miss Mae.”

“Of course.” Draco tipped his head, and Harry gave a lopsided smile and small wave before they went back out to collect the dog.

“She didn’t like you.”

“That’s fairly common.” 

Harry bent down to scratch the dog’s ears through the gaps in the bar before he straightened up picked up her carrier. “She liked me.”

“On the prowl, Potter?” Draco was unable to keep his grin out of his voice, and Harry rolled his eyes before starting to walk with him.

“No, nothing like that. She just… seemed to be a big fan.”

“A lot of the world is. You saved it, I’m fairly certain.”

“A big fan who was unable to detect any spells on us despite the fact we’re pretty sure a spell was cast on us.”

Right. “So you’re thinking suspect.”

“Maybe.”

Draco reached out and curled his fingers around Harry’s hand before apparating behind the cafe and letting go. “Because she, like everyone else, is nice to a man who saved her life and also can’t detect a spell done by someone already confirmed to be a skilled criminal?”

“It sounds stupid when you put it like that.”

“Might be a reason for it.”

“Yeah.” Harry brought his hand up to scratch the back of his head. “She was rude to you.”

“You have a very low caliber for what counts as rude.”

“She just seemed like she was trying to keep down a lot of hate.”

“And you think that also makes her a suspect.”

“Hate tends to lead to crime.”

Draco let out a slow breath. “If everyone who would jump at a chance to watch me burn was a suspect, Harry, we’d have to detain most of the wizarding world. Besides, hate for me doesn’t equal crime against you. The fact I’m involved in this case is based off too many chance things for me to be a target.”

“Happy accidents.”

“What?”

“Uh, might just be a lucky opportunity she stumbled upon, in her eyes. If it really was all as slim chances as you think it is.”

“I don’t get sent every B&E there is, you know, and no one would have assumed that you would fight to keep me on the case.”

“I’ve fought for you before.”

“Not when it put your life on the line.” 

Draco ignored Harry’s gaze, refused to meet it even when it lingered on the side of his face silently. 

“That wasn’t a... jab. I'm not trying to undermine your heroic tendencies, Harry, I’m simply pointing out it was different circumstances, and whoever did target you currently has a wrench in their plans.”

“Isn’t it whomever?”

“Subject, not object.”

“Don’t remember learning that at Hogwarts.”

Draco shrugged. “Well, you were a bit busy to attend classes, weren’t you?”

Harry’s gaze finally left Draco’s skin. “Yeah. I guess I was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, plot! bet y'all had forgotten that plot was a thing in this fic. but it's rearing its head, finally
> 
> got this one out a bit earlier than usual, but also this one was only given a once-over as proofreading so... trade off, i guess. apologizes for any and all typos. love you all


	6. Armcouch Therapy

Harry didn’t comment on Draco checking all his wards or that the door was locked twice, although Draco knew something was coming because Harry had practically blackmailed him into agreeing to a talk. 

Draco quietly repaired the furniture that had been destroyed in their absence while Harry scolded the dog.

“So.” Since he’d wordlessly agreed to it, might as well get it over with. “How much letting you prise do I owe you?”

Harry’s frown at the dog deepened. “Have you ever talked about what happened?”

The lack of answer was certainly reassuring. Somehow, Draco got the feeling that he wouldn’t be the one out of the two of them to end up stricken with emotions if they actually talked properly. “No.” At least, not in the way Harry meant. It wasn’t as though Draco had managed to just avoid all discussion of the war entirely.

Harry sat down in front of the dog, and she put her paws on his thigh and put her focus into trying to lick the skin off of his hand. “How long have you been able to do wandless magic?”

“Since that time you took my wand, basically.” Give or take a few weeks where practice and blind hope became reality. A weak pathetic reality, but a reality, and one that strengthened. 

Harry nodded, scratching under his dog’s chin. “Why wordless?”

“Ah, smooth.” Draco leant against the doorway. “Couldn’t talk while doing so because it might alert the psychopaths that had taken up residence in my house I was doing something without Voldemort’s explicit say so and then all sorts of terrible things would happen to me. Nice segue.”

A small shrug. Clearly, to Harry, it wasn’t worth the effort of denying he had already worked out that answer. “Figured it might be nicer than being pounced on.”

Draco opened his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah, sex joke.”

Draco closed his mouth.

“I thought you said that you were the one doing all sorts of terrible things.”

“Yeah, well, turns out doing terrible things is rather terrible.”

“Who would have thought.”

“Going to stare at your dog the whole conversation?” Draco wouldn’t break under eye contact. While a small part of him appreciated the fact Harry was trying to make this conversation as easy and not overwhelming as possible, at the moment he was just serving to annoy Draco. Draco wasn’t that fragile. He didn’t need coddling. Especially not when just talking about things that’d happened years ago.

Harry’s hand scratched the dog’s ears -- which personally Draco thought was counterintuitive to punishing her for continuing to destroy Draco’s house -- then stood up and faced Draco.

It didn’t make the room feel smaller, it didn’t make the air feel thinner, and Draco didn’t straighten his back.

“Wandless and wordless magic, that’s impressive.”

“I am a pureblood.”

“Lots of pure blooded wizards and witches have dedicated their lives to achieving that and failed.”

“I’m a natural blonde, too.”

Harry coughed then jerked softly with repressed laughter.

Draco smiled, staccato huffs of also-not-laughter coming from him before he let his head fall back against the wall and giggled freely. 

Unable to repress after Draco had given in, Harry had a hand over his mouth and his shoulders shook while barely-muffled laughs spilled out between his fingers. “I think you’ve cracked it.” He said, but the hand covering his mouth garbled it enough that Draco sent him an exasperated but amused look and Harry took his hand away, letting the laughter flow free, and repeated himself.

Draco’s giggles died down and he simply looked pleased with himself, smile staying on his face. “Definitely. Which means you’re doomed to need wands and words forever, oh mighty one.” 

“Oh piss off.” Getting a wand out of his pocket, Harry flicked a pillow at Draco’s head without saying anything.

He caught the pillow, although did relent with a very vaguely impressed look. “Wands forever, then.”

“Should have known there was more to why you were so offended over the bleach accusation.”

“Of course. Our skill comes from the lightness of our hair, you know.”

“That feels… slightly racist.”

Draco gave a small tilt of his head in acknowledgement. “Fair. Maybe there is hope for you then.”

“I’m not sure the patronizing is helping?”

“Listen, I’m doing my best.” Draco gave a sigh. “If magic was racist I’m not entirely certain you’d be the savior, Harry. Aren’t we meant to be talking about my trauma, anyway?”

Harry beamed. “Finally, something you dislike talking about even more than your past!”

“Oh Merlin.” It had been a joke! A joke made without thought, though, and while Draco knew Harry wasn’t actually offended it was still an annoying reminder that a fair amount of what Draco had been raised with was still in his head. 

“Impressed you called it trauma, though. Wasn’t sure you’d breach that word.”

Low bar. Draco really could do nothing but exceed expectations during the chat, if Harry really expected that little of him. “Just because I don’t want a therapist doesn’t mean I don’t know that what I went through was shite.”

“That was a lot of negatives in one sentence.”

“It’s a symbolic reflection of my feelings towards having this conversation at all.”

“Very poetic.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you ever get caught practicing without a wand?”

“No. By the time you’d taken mine, I’d learned how not to be caught misbehaving.”

“Didn’t your mother give you hers?”

“Later, yes.”

“Why not sooner?”

“She hadn’t been allowed to.”

Harry gave a thoughtful nod, falling quiet. He looked like he was processing things and thinking them over, which was bizarre primarily because Draco didn’t feel like he’d given enough information that it needed to be carefully considered. 

Draco felt the gentle pressure of his wand in his trouser pocket like an accusation. He closed his eyes, kicking off the wall to go sit on the couch instead.

Harry joined him. “Have you ever stopped being scared, since Snape killed Dumbledore?”

“Have you stopped being scared since the second time you met Voldemort?” Draco shot back.

“No, not really.” Harry replied, giving a small shake of his head afterwards like he was confirming it. “I mean, it’s not that I’m always one hundred percent scared and zero percent anything else, but… always a little, I think.”

“Oh.” Harry really was ridiculously open about everything, wasn’t he? Pushing questions back at him would do no help at all. He was just far too excited to talk about his feelings.

“So?”

“You’re very pushy.”

“I’ve been exercising some remarkable self-restraint.”

“Terrifying.” Draco let out a soft breath. “No. Since before that, really.”

“When?”

“I don’t know.” It had been stretches of fear that just got longer and longer and then one just never really stopped. Draco couldn’t say when it had started, because its start had been too undistinguished from all the other starts to make a note of. “Just before.”

“I think I started at giant wizard’s chess.”

A beat of silence. “Harry, what in Merlin’s name does that mean?”

“Oh, right. Before I confronted Quirrell; Hermione, Ron, and I had to do some weird tasks to get to him. There was that three-headed dog, and then a magical plant that tried to kill us, some very violent flying keys, and giant wizard’s chess.”

“And the giant wizard’s chess is the part of that list which struck fear into your heart. Obviously.”

“None of us got hurt during the other parts. Well, the keys cut me up a bit, but that wasn’t that bad. Sure I was -- adrenaline’d up -- but it was just an adventure.”

“Then Granger or Weasley got hurt.”

“Yeah. I hurt Ron. I had to. I mean, and he told me to. It was so I could stop everyone from dying, which really became more of an ongoing theme in my life than I anticipated, but… Ron got hurt. And it was my fault.”

If Harry expected Draco to try to assuage the guilt of blaming himself for however Weasley got injured, he was left waiting. Draco didn’t bother with those work arounds -- if Harry had hurt Weasley, then he’d hurt Weasley. It was undoubtedly for the greater good, but telling him that he didn’t have a choice was wrong. He'd had a choice. He'd chosen the right one, but it had meant hurting his friend. That didn’t go away just because it was the right choice. “Even your backstory for just the fear is soaked in heroism. It was all fun and games until you had to do something hard, and then that guilt set in.” Draco expected Harry to get mad. 

He was left waiting. “Ha, yeah, I guess. It’s easy to pretend none of it’s real until someone you care about is in pain.”

Narcissa leapt into Draco’s head. Then others. Draco closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Then it’s scary.”

Draco took in a deep breath.

“And very real.”

He let it out slowly.

“And very lonely.”

“Going to say I don’t have to be alone in this, Harry?”

“Well. I guess now I’m not.”

Draco couldn’t help a smile, although it was fleeting of its own accord.

“What’s the string, Draco?”

The question hung in the air, heavy. Draco parsed through all the answers he could give. The closest thing he had to a lifeline. A crutch. A compulsion. Irrationality. Fear. A safety blanket. Something to stop his mind from getting the better of him.

Harry let it hang, because Draco hadn’t immediately blown him off. 

Draco vaguely wondered if this was how Harry would treat a stray cat. Make opening moves to show he’s safe, he cares, then sit back and let it approach.

Draco vaguely wondered if Harry had ever got bitten by a stray cat.

“A safety precaution.”

Another nod. Harry was very good at seeming as understanding as possible, apparently. He must practice in a mirror, double checking he looked properly attentive and supportive. “Like your wards?”

“Like my wards.” Draco agreed.

“What other safety precautions do you have?”

Draco brought up a hand to his face. “Just some. Not an insane amount. I’m not -- “ Crazy. Paranoid. Traumatized. “It’s fine. Better safe than sorry, right?”

“Safe from what?”

Draco didn’t have a good answer. He had an answer, sure, but it was a shite one. His hand slide into his hair, tightening into a fist, and he put all his control into making his next breath out sound as normal as possible. It sounded passible enough, to his own ears.

“Draco?”

He knew what he was scared of, how it related to what he wanted to be kept safe from, why that manifested in precautions. He knew it all, but it didn’t change it. He wasn’t feeling better just from knowing the details of his issues. The discussion that was happening with Harry wouldn’t change any of it, either.

“Draco.”

It wouldn’t silence the screams, it wouldn’t get rid of the past, it wouldn’t fix the future. All that would happen was a bruised ego where Harry’s thriving hero complex usually stood, and all because Harry couldn’t not go wherever his pity urged him.

“ _Draco._ ”

Just because that pity had landed on Draco didn’t mean he deserved it. Didn’t mean it would be productive there. It wasn’t even worth the time. Draco was fine. He was functioning. He had a job, he had friends, he could enjoy life sometimes and laugh and kiss and forget, forget all the sobbing and all the desperate stares and all the begging and --

A dog was suddenly burrowing into Draco’s lap, licking his face, and Draco startled while the world slipped back into place around him. He felt a pressure on his shoulder and relaxed his hand, letting it fall onto the dog’s head, and glanced over to see Harry reached out and touching him.

Draco met his gaze. “Just safe.” Safer. Not safe. But safer.

Harry swallowed. “Maybe I am a bit too pushy.”

Draco returned his gaze to the dog on his lap. She was currently trying to pull one of his buttons off his shirt. “Your dog’s almost as protective as you are.”

“Thanks.”

Draco let out an amused puff of air. “Maybe you should just name her Harry 2.0.”

“Her nickname could be two.”

Draco shook his head, forcing himself to uncurl and press his shoulders back into the couch cushion. 

“Two?”

The dog did not react.

“Or not.”

“Mini?” Draco offered.

Her ears perked and she tilted her head. 

“Mini?” Harry echoed, shooting Draco a curious look.

“Mini Harry. I was going to say travel-size but it doesn’t roll off the tongue so easily.”

Harry looked at the dog. “Hey, Mini.” He smiled when she looked over to him.

“Truly, I am amazing at everything.”

“Clearly. Think you can get her trained, too?”

“I’m sure I could if I was willing to do that for you. Your dog, your training.”

“You named her. That’s like partial ownership, I’m pretty sure.”

“Who’s going to keep her if we get divorced, then?”

“I said partial, not half.” 

“Yes, well then.” Draco picked up Mini and handed her over to Harry, who moved his hand from Draco’s shoulder to accept the now-furiously-wiggling creature. “Here’s mostly your dog.”

Harry laughed, wrapping his arms around Mini. “Thanks, mostly.”

Draco rolled his eyes, standing up off the couch. “So, how much do I owe you, doctor?”

“I’m sure you couldn’t afford me. Not on an Auror’s salary.”

Draco glanced over his shoulder, and Harry braced himself for whatever that mischievous glint in his eyes was about to bring. “Why doctor, I’m sure could find other ways to pay you back.”

“Oh Merlin.” Harry covered Mini’s ears, sending Draco a faux-protective look. He didn’t need his precious puppy being exposed to porn dialogue, apparently. 

Lips splitting into a devious grin, Draco stepped closer to Harry. “I really do need an A in this class, or my parents will kill me.” He purred.

“I thought I was a doctor.” Harry was failing to entirely stifle giggles. “Anyway you’re a straight A student and we both know it.”

“I don’t know. I feel remarkably un-straight.”

The laughter wasn’t even attempted to be stifled that time, and Mini leapt away at the lax grip it brought. “Around me or just in general, oh student slash patient of mine?”

Draco tilted his head thoughtfully, looking down at Harry.

Who was looking up at him through dark lashes, given the whole sitting versus standing situation, and the amused smirk on his face looked good. Cockiness suited him.

“Both.” Draco murmured, overly flirty tone dropping briefly before it and his pleased smile returned. “Afraid I was aware of my homosexual tendencies before I met you, Dr. Professor. But you did certainly help inspire some confirmations of the knowledge.”

“Ah, well, if it was knowledge I was giving you…”

“I’d take a lot more than that from you.” Draco responded easily.

“I’d give you a lot more than that, too.” Harry replied just as smoothly.

Draco’s eyebrows raised in unison. “Pretty sure that violates multiple codes of ethics.”

“I might just be talking about a diagnosis. And, uh, homework?” Balancing the two professions brought into the discussion was clearly a bit of a struggle.

“Alright, then. What’s my diagnosis, Doctor?”

Brows furrowing, Harry brought up his hands and folded them in front of his mouth. He stayed silent for a long stretch of time, and Draco found it increasingly hard to keep a straight face at the concentration Harry was putting in. Finally, Harry lifted his gaze and looked Draco dead in the eye. “I diagnose you with gay.” He said as solemnly as he could manage

Draco doubled over, tears clinging to his eyelashes and he found himself unable to speak. 

Harry’s head was leaning on the back of the couch, but he was simply grinning widely in silence, happy to bask in Draco’s enjoyment of the joke. 

When Draco did manage to subside his amusement and wipe the water clinging to his eyes away, he shook his head softly then schooled his expression into a played up sultry gaze. He reached out his hand, placing a curled finger at the hollow of Harry’s throat and pulling it up his neck and the underside of his chin before drifting off. “And what, in that case, is my homework?”

Harry’s mouth opened silently, and then he closed again.

So even classic moves worked on the Savior. Good to know. He wasn’t immune to absolutely everything other people did to him.

“Be gay?” He hazarded.

Draco let his gaze fall down Harry’s body before dragging back up. “I think I can manage that one.” He said, while Harry refused eye contact in apparent self-consciousness. 

“I’m a harsh grader, you know.”

“And you know I always give a top performance.”

Harry cut Draco a glance, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “With how well cared for your skin is? I doubt it.”

Draco gave a disapproving click of his tongue. “Stereotypes.”

“Prove me wrong, then.”

“We’ll see, Dr. Professor.” Draco stepped back, stretching his arms above his head. “We’ll see.” A wink, and then he padded off to his library.

Before he closed the door, he was Harry raised up his hands to his face and heard him let out a soft sound of frustration.

Draco smiled to himself then closed the door. He did, actually, have some research to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be the first time I've ever updated a fic early. Classes are starting up again tomorrow, though, so I did want to get this posted in case I got slammed with work all at once. Next update may be late due to having to get re-settled into the hustle and bustle of university life. Hopefully not, though!


	7. Soul Searching

It was hard not to get entirely involved in his books while Draco set about trying to find ways for them to check each other thoroughly for traces of spells. Just because a random Auror hadn’t been able to find anything didn’t mean there was anything to find -- it was more likely simply particularly difficult to detect rather than the Auror purposely not looking hard enough.

In any case, it seemed like something that could be helped out with a potion. However, Draco was sill meant to be paying attention to Harry, so he kept an ear out. Whenever things got quiet for too long, Draco pulled himself out of his focus until Harry made some sort of noise to indicate him still being alive and in the house and then Draco went back to reading. 

It was a few hours before he found something promising, and then he walked out into the living room with his book in hand, glancing up to see Mini asleep under the coffee table and no sign of her owner. “Harry?”

“Kitchen!” Came the called response.

Draco walked through the doorway, noticing the enticing smell for the first time, and he saw some sort of omelette sizzling away nicely in a pan. 

“You didn’t have much in your fridge. You do eat, right?”

“I’ve been known to, every now and then.”

Harry fixed Draco with a careful look. “How often?”

Well. Harry’s ability to see what Draco was simply playing off as a joke was improving. That was going to be annoying. “Most days.”

That concerned look sprung up, and Draco sighed before Harry could start on whatever uplifting and thoughtful off the cuff speech he was about to begin.

“I think I found something that could see if there’s been a spell cast on either of us. It’s leagues more thorough than the standard spells, but of course more risky.”

Harry visibly weighed pulling the conversation back to Draco’s eating habits versus both of their physical safeties. He settled on the one with the more drastic time crunch. “Alright, hit me. What is it?”

“We both drink a potion to connect our magical cores enough for us to check them.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Omelette is going to burn.”

While Harry scrambled to get the omelette off the pan and onto a plate unncessarily quickly, Draco had given him plenty of warning about the impending fate of the meal for him to have to rush so much, Draco started to explain the potion.

“There isn’t actually too much literal risk, given that neither of us attempt to rip out each other’s magic or do something else obviously dangerous. Mostly it’s a risk in the sense of it will take a lot of trust, given the connection may expose other parts beyond just our magic alone. We should be able to, in a sense, feel each other’s magic for irregularities and pieces that don’t fit.”

“Like long-term spells cast on us.”

“For example.”

“Would my scar cause a false positive?”

“Unlikely. It’s probably woven into your magical identity too much by this point to stand out enough to cause concern. A spell put on you in the past few days would be far more noticable.”

“Right.” Harry hesitated before he grabbed an egg.

“Yes, the same applies to my dark mark.”

“Right.” He repeated, and cracked the egg over a bowl before grabbing two more and doing the same, but turned and faced Draco before he put in anything else. “Alright, let’s do it. After we eat, though.”

Draco gave a soft nod. “Potion shouldn’t take too long to make, and I am relatively certain I have the ingredients I need.”

“Good.” Harry wasn’t surprised. Then again, given how clear Draco had made his love of potions back in school, any survivors from their year probably wouldn’t be that Draco was well stocked on ingredients.

Draco sat down at his kitchen table, placing the book in front of him and going over the potion carefully so he’d have a solid grip on what to do before he actually started, the faint sounds of Harry making a second omelette a few feet away providing an enjoyable white noise.

He was most of the way through his third read of the section when a plate was put down in front of him, food still steaming. Draco picked up the fork and knife, cutting himself off a piece and blowing on it gently.

“You didn’t get the warmer one?” Draco asked.

“I made the first one for me. That one’s for you.”

“There’s a difference?”

Harry gave a small nod. “More pepper, less salt, more spinach.”

Draco quirked his eyebrow. “I’d be impressed with your guesswork if I didn’t remember the year you spent stalking me.” He took a bite of his omelette. Not quite enough pepper, but still delicious. He let out a pleased hum.

Harry smiled in reaction before he gave a shrug. “At least be impressed with my memory then. So, what’s my role?”

“Pardon?”

“In the… magic groping.” Harry frowned at his own phrasing.

“Positively lyrical. Sit on the floor, drink the potion, grab my forearms and then… try to find my core, I suppose.”

“Suppose?” Words were muffled from speaking around a mouthful of food, and Draco shot Harry an amused look.

“It doesn’t talk much about the actual process of finding the other person’s magic. Just says to let yourself be guided by the connection, and then you’ll be able to interact with it. Among other things.”

“Ah.” Harry swallowed. “The other things. Stuff that’s exposed beyond the very core of all my powers. What are the other things?”

“This is an old book, it’s practically required to be vague. Just says the essence of the person entirely, not just the source of their magic.” Draco skimmed to find the excerpt. “‘After being led deep within the other, his soul and all its magic will be exposed. You will walk through his very essence like a stroll through a garden, and experience him a naked way.’” He quoted, then returned his gaze to Harry.

“That did sound like an old book. They all use masculine pronouns for everything.”

“That they do.” 

“Which leads to like, a lot of homoerotic subtext. Deep, experiencing him naked… only from two sentences. You sure you didn’t accidentally pick up a sex book?”

“Pretty sure. This would be a very complex recipe for lube.”

Harry fought down a grin and tilted his head in acceptance. “Point. Eat your omelette.”

“Now I can join in all my friends’ talks about how annoying it was to have a nanny.” But obediently, Draco cut himself off another piece and ate it after blowing on it to cool.

“You didn’t have one?”

Draco finished chewing his mouthful. “Nope. My parents were pretty involved in my life. More than a lot of other purebloods.”

“That’s…” Harry spent a few long seconds struggling for the right word. “Nice.”

“It was.” Draco confirmed, letting Harry relax with approval of his choice. “There were of course the times they were both too busy and I was left mostly on my own for a little while, but it was nothing terrible. They both always made time for me.”

Harry looked surprised.

“Didn’t expect my father to have been the doting type?”

“Not really, no.” He admitted.

“Understandable.” He’d certainly grown colder with age. The more expectations there were for Draco, the more he failed to meet them and the more his father hardened to him. “He was, though. Back when I was young.” Draco frowned, taking another bite before he leant back in his chair. “You’ve tricked me into talking again.”

Harry scoffed. “I literally just asked about your nanny. You offered up information, no treachery needed.”

_That’s much more worrying._

“Anyway, I’m about to go pawing around in your naked essense, or whatever, so I don’t think revealing vague information about your childhood is going to measure up after that.”

“Point.” Draco parroted, putting on an imitation of Harry’s accent that brought a soft smile to his lips. “Speaking of, I really should get working on that. Potential mortal danger and all lights a fire under one’s self, doesn’t it?”

“You’ve not even had half your omelette.”

“I’ll save the rest for later. Refrigerate it. It’s better to have multiple small meals rather than three large ones.”

“I thought that was a wive’s tale.”

“Wives can be right.” Draco stood, covering up the remains of his food with a bowl before placing it in the fridge and rinsing off his silverware before placing them in the drying rack. “Bring your food downstairs if you’re not done eating. Won’t be able to listen for any suspicious mind controlled activity if you’re upstairs.”

Harry put his fork on his plate before standing up, and he followed Draco to the basement and carefully closed the door so a put-out Mini couldn’t run around and get herself covered in hazardous materials.

← →

“There.” Two vials of hopefully perfectly crafted soul viewing potions. Draco looked over to Harry, who was curled up dozing in the corner of the room, and let out a soft sigh before walking over then squatting down in front of him. “Harry.”

Harry didn’t stir.

Draco reached out, gently shaking his shoulder, and Harry awoke with a slight start, then relaxed back upon seeing Draco’s face.

“Oh. Potions ready?”

Draco nodded, walking over to his workbench and picking up the vails before he sat down in front of Harry and handed one to him. “Ready?”

“Not sure. As I’ll ever be, maybe?”

That was fair, given neither of them really were sure what to expect. “Cheers.”

They clicked their potions together before uncapping and downing them, and they both separately pulled a face at the bad taste.

Draco pushed up his sleeves and Harry copied him, and then he reached out and wrapped his fingers around Harry’s forearms while Harry did the same to Draco’s. Draco took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

It was what he normally saw, the darkness of his lids. Small flickers of light from the lamp to his left made their way through, but he didn’t see or feel anything strange. Instead, Draco switched his attention to the feeling of Harry’s hands on him.

After all, it did specify that position. Might just be because physical touch was required so the magic had something to work off of, or that was the lead in itself. His hands were warm, holding firmly but not tight. His fingernails were longer than Draco would have expected. The hair on his arms ticked with a breeze from the vent, and he felt as self-conscious as Draco did.

Given that Harry’s nails weren’t touching him, and he usually didn’t have access to Harry’s emotions or the sensations of his skin, Draco’s current tactic seemed to be working. He trailed his focus up to Harry’s shoulders (tense back muscles, curved spine) down his front (fast heartbeat) and then inwards.

Blackness overcame Draco, and he scrambled without form for something solid to orient him. There was a crackling up ahead, and the sound of a voice, and Draco sought them both out.

“...’I fuck men’ and call it a day?” The voice clarified into Draco’s own as he got closer, and a scene unfolded in front of him. 

“Never really thought about it before.” Draco felt his mouth move to the words that he knew had come from Harry, saw the judgemental gaze he hadn’t known he’d responded with.

Draco pushed onwards, “Just felt like…” trailing into silence behind him.

“Wicked.” Draco glanced over, the younger Weasley’s face filing his view. “Can you show me, Harry?”

Draco’s felt Harry’s heart flutter. “Yeah.” Harry’s voice rumbled from Draco again. “I wanna show you everything.”

Draco looked away from Weasley’s blushing smile, and plowed through the rest of the memories that faded in and out without giving them any attention. He picked up bits regardless -- a lot of a small dark room and doing chores, a fair amount of running, happy ones with his Granger and her Weasley -- but didn’t linger or look. He wasn’t sure how long the potion would last, for one, and for second he didn’t want to prise. 

He really hoped Harry shared the same courtesy. 

Finally, the crackling got louder. Draco followed it, trying to find the source, and a huge white flame popped up in front of him that made his own head swim with a memory of barely escaping death, and he felt himself freeze but moved towards the flame anyway. It wasn’t hot, just loud and wild. It made it more tolerable. Draco swallowed and walked into the fire, ears deaf to anything but the roars, unable to see beyond it’s painful brightness. 

He wandered for what felt like far too long, the flame huge and encompassing, before finally bumping into something solid. It felt like a boulder, and it was warm to the touch.

Draco slide his hand over it, and was faintly aware of some pressure on his forearms but focused on the task at hand. He brought up his other hand, pushing out everything but trying to efficiently but thoroughly feel for anything strange.

He found what must have been the scar, callused over into the hard surface, and checked around it before moving on. He had covered about a third when he felt a lurch in his gut, some sensation that knocked him to his knees and got every one of his nerves fluttering and clamouring, and he swallowed thickly. Looks like someone had caught up. Draco forced himself to stand again even as the feeling persisted, every muscle straining with effort, and finally near the top he felt something pointing out and practically glued on. 

Draco closed his hands around it, out of breath, and on instinct squeezed tightly.

His hands slipped into it, and then the rest of him, and he was again surrounded by nothing but darkness. Except for the flicker of the lamp casting light on the right of his closed eyes.

Something wretched Draco out, and he went hurtling back into Hagrid’s cabin. 

“You know what, Harry? When I first met you, you reminded me of me a bit.” Heavy accent cut off most of the words early, and a wrap of comfort surrounded Draco at the words. Still, he carefully edged out of the memory, accidentally walking right into another one.

“He gave you his number.” Jealousy, bright and clawing, deep in his gut.

“Indeed he did. We’re not the only non-straight men in town, you know.” Draco heard himself say, and felt Harry’s stomach turn.

“I know.”

Another escape, another fall into something else.

A slap sent him crashing onto the floor, and apologies were falling from his mouth along with dribbles of blood. A women stood over him, and cold fear was holding onto every one of Harry’s cells.

Draco pulled himself off the floor and fled again, trying to shake off all the different emotions that’d been forced onto him.

He stopped dead in his tracks, in direct eye contact with Voldemort as he raised his wand. Draco could feel himself as Harry raise his own, anger fueling him and barely any trace of fear as they both shot magic at each other.

Voldemort was saying something, and Draco couldn’t stop staring into those eyes. He could feel himself getting pulled back, pulled out of Harry and into his own memories from the stare he couldn’t break off and all the hatred and disgust those eyes held, all the promises of pain like Draco had never imagined in ways he never would have suspected, and he couldn’t move or run as himself or Harry.

Violently, he was thrown back into his body and the first thing he had to do was cover his mouth and fight down the vomit building in his stomach, and he scrambled back away from Harry with tears streaming down his face. He had to go, he had to run.

Harry’s eyes were staring at him, wide in horror and confusion, and Draco didn’t even care what memories he had seen. He just somehow managed to force himself to his feet and turn and get away, as fast as his feet could carry him, while Harry sat frozen to the spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out when I get bored in class I just start writing this fic, so at least for the next few chapters things actually should be relatively scheduled. I hope. Anyway... it's real weird soul exploration hours hit that kudos button if you up.


	8. After Effects

Draco found himself behind the cafe, curled up on the ground and shaking. His back was pretty into the brick of the wall, and the sky twinkled only with intermittent starlight. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been brewing the potion, or how long he’d been sitting.

He’d thrown up everything in his stomach into a trash bin on the way, and every now and then was wracked with dry heaves that made his throat feel like it was being split open.

Hands on the ground, he spit nothing but saliva onto the ground and leant back against the wall again. His heart beat in his ears, in his fingertips, in the ache of a forming bruise on his leg. His breath, he knew, was too light and too fast. Slowing it made it shaky, deepening led to more dry heaving, but slowly Draco managed to get to acceptable levels.

The stars looked down at him passively. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Everything reversed when footsteps approached, thudding deafening him to them after he registered their approach and lungs barely touching fresh oxygen before carbon dioxide was being forced out, and Draco’s muscles felt like they were going to snap from how tight he was wound. A shield spell encased him, and magic crackled along his throat in self defense.

Harry turned the corner, and his eyes were full of sympathy at Draco’s state.

“Draco. It’s okay. What you saw, it was a memory. It’s in the past. You’re safe now.”

The shield spell pulsed but remained.

Harry lowered himself, slowly sitting down to the side of Draco. “They’re gone, Draco. They’ve been gone for years.”

The spell crackled, and Draco’s eyes didn’t blink as they stayed sealed to every one of Harry’s movements.

“Draco…” For a few moments, Harry seemed lost. Draco noticed his eyes were wet. “I didn’t know. I’m…” He reached out, and his hand passed through the shield spell. It dissolved outwards, and he placed a hand on Draco’s knee. “I’m sorry. I didn’t save you. I didn’t know.”

Draco’s magic quieted, and the tears continued to stream down his face.

Harry moved closer. “I’m sorry, Draco. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

Draco let himself get pulled in close, and he wrapped his arms around Harry and clung as hard as he could.

Harry held him back just as tightly, and his apologies droned on until they were drowned out by the sobs that wracked Draco. He must have stopped at some point, because by the time Draco’s voice had died and his body had run out of energy, Harry had stopped talking and was just keeping Draco secure in his arms.

Too out of energy to even speak, and the lateness of the night catching up with him, not a minute after Draco fell silent did he promptly fall asleep.

← →

He slowly came to on his sofa, which made him briefly wonder if he imagined successfully getting out of the house. When he shifted, though, he felt the scratches in his back from where the brick had dug in and the ache in his bones from sitting on concrete. Draco tentatively sat up, blanket falling to pool at his hips, and Mini shifted in her sleep on his legs.

Traces of sunlight streamed through the window. He must have managed a few hours of sleep then. Or, undoubtedly more accurately, his body must have forced him at least a few hours before his worries woke him up.

Draco raised a hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes.

There was a soft tap next to him, and he looked over to see a hot cup of tea placed on the coffee table and a hand retreating from it. Draco followed the hand and saw Harry, for his part looked like he hadn’t slept since the potion. At least he’d caught some sleep beforehand, though, so they were probably about even.

“I would have brought you to your bed, but I figured there’d be more than just the string, and I didn’t want to end up paralyzed or tied up with rope or… anything.” 

Draco gave a soft nod, reaching out to pick up the cup of tea and wrap his hands around it. “Bed is guarded.”

“Yeah.” Harry sat down on the floor in front of Draco. “I didn’t mean to look. I just kept falling into them.”

“I know. They were… surprisingly tangly.” The more Draco had struggled to get out the more memories seemed to pop up. He looked down to his tea and noticed smudges on his forearms, which upon closer inspection turned out to be five red crescents on each of them. He looked over to Harry’s forearms, which matched. “Huh.” Draco wondered during which part they’d gotten those. The sensation of what he assumed to be Harry touching his magic core would have made him tense, but the fear would have too. Probably both, then.

“Yeah. I cleaned off the blood from us both; it looks like they’ll bruise but not scar. Didn’t trust myself to do any healing magic. Barely was sure enough to heat your tea.”

Draco looked back to his tea, bringing it up to his lips and blowing on the surface. “Did you find a spell on me?”

Harry nodded. “It was weird, though, it’s like I fell into it.”

“Same thing happened to me.”

“What did you see?”

“Closed eyelids.”

“Same. I thought they were mine, but--”

“The light was on the wrong side.” Draco finished.

Another nod. “Does that mean…?”

“Probably.”

“That’s very bad.”

“Very, very bad. Yes.”

“We need to talk to Karim.”

“We do.”

“And then we should talk.”

“After.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Draco took a sip of his tea. “Hey, at least this time it’s not all about you.”

Harry gave a rather forced looking and weak smile. “True. It’s nice to not be targeted, for once.”

“It is.” Draco agreed. He shifted a leg, waking up Mini would gave a tongue-curled yawn and leveled Draco with an unimpressed look. “Gotta get up, Mini. Time to go save the world.”

Mini put her head back down on Draco’s legs. 

“Well that’s not helpful.”

Harry leaned over and picked up Mini, letting Draco stand up. 

He brought his tea with him when he went to his bedroom, catching the string and replacing it when he closed the door, and stripped off his dirty clothes before changing into new ones. He left his clothes in a pile on the floor, going into the bathroom and splashing his face with cold water. He could be upset later. He could rest later. Right then, he had to do his job.

Draco straightened up, casting some basic appearance charms on himself and he chugged the rest of his tea before walking out to Harry. Who’d also changed. Draco made a note to ask him when his clothes had arrived at another point, for then he just put his mug in the kitchen sink and gave Mini a pat goodbye.

He walked out with Harry, offering his hand and waiting for Harry to take it before he apparated them near the Ministry.

← →

“Alright, undo them now.”

Draco reached up and untied the knot that kept his blindfold in place, blinking against the light before he focused on Karim. They were in a perfectly plain and boring small room, and Harry was sitting next to him.

“So. Care to explain?”

Harry spoke first. “The person broke into my house in order to cast a spell that would enchant those who entered. It’s one to see through their eyes. We were both affected, and probably so is everyone else who’s been in there since the break-in.”

“The perpetrator knew that because it was Harry Potter, those who worked on the case would be in the higher levels of the Ministry, giving them access to information. It’s all reconnaissance.” Draco added.

Karim gave a troubled nod. “Anything else?”

Both Harry and Draco shook their heads. _At least, nothing else that’s relevant enough to mention._

“I’ll have someone come in to remove the spell. Draco, I’m going to assume learning all this is the reason for delayed and missing reports, so you get a pass.”

“Thank you, Head Auror Karim.” He had gotten rather distracted. Reports had become low on his list of priorities. 

“Sit tight, gentlemen.” With that, she swept out of the room.

Draco leaned back in his seat, letting out a slow breath. He felt exhausted, and his magic was still swirling with discomfort after being manhandled, and Voldemort’s eyes kept flashing in his head. He just needed to go back home and sleep.

“What did--”

“Nope.” Draco cut Harry off before he could get started. Best to just sit in silence while they waited. Draco had no doubt whatsoever that they were in an interrogation room of some sort, and that meant many prying eyes. He wasn’t in a terrible hurry to explain exactly how they discovered the spell that had affected them both, and Harry was probably about to ask a question relating to it. 

While it was understandable for it to be on his mind, it wasn’t something they should go around discussing right then. For the time being, Karim would be too busy focused on finding out all the leaked information and taking the spell off those affected to have Harry and Draco properly questioned, they could think of a cover then.

Seconds ticked by on Draco’s internal clock, stretching out for a long time before finally the door opened again and someone Draco hadn’t seen before walked in. Harry tensed next to him, glancing over to Draco, and Draco gave a soft shake of his head.

He was starting to see why Harry had disappeared into solitude. Every person they came across registered as a threat to him.

“I’m, uh, here to take off the spell. Spells. Er, spell from you both.” He looked as nervous as Harry did. 

Draco spontaneously felt like a babysitter. “Right. Should be easy, now that you know what you’re looking for.” He almost described the location of Harry’s spell in relation to his magical core on instinct, just relaying information, but that wouldn’t actually help any and also would cause a lot of questions to pop up.

“Sight stealing spell, right?”

“...Yeah, pretty much.” Stealing wasn’t quite the correct word but the idea was there. _Try not to blind anyone, kid._

The boy raised his wand at Draco, and Harry looked so tense he might snap.

“Why don’t you do it to me, first?”

Two pairs of questioning eyes fell to Harry.

“I mean, you know, I’d just like to get it done and over with. Things to do, all that.”

Well that was completely a lie. Certainly didn’t have anything to do that he could get to faster by going first, anyway.

The boy glanced between the two of them. “It’s safer to go second.”

Probably why he lowered his wand at Draco in the first place. Better to use him as a test subject than Harry Potter.

“Yeah, well…” Harry flounded to come up with a reason to still go first that wouldn’t sound either paranoid or white-knight-esque, Draco guessed. He didn’t seem to have much motivation beyond those two options. “I’m probably more resilient anyway. Chosen one. And… all that.”

Merlin, Harry was bad at lying. It was hilarious. He wouldn’t have lasted a day in the Malfoy Manor.

“Okay, I guess.” The boy was definitely concerned, kept sending Draco accusational glances like he was somehow forcing Harry to be cast on first, but did turn his wand to face Harry instead and said something sufficiently complicated sounding.

Harry flinched, then flinched again, then raised his hands to his eyes and let out a hiss of pain.

Draco tensed, fingers touching the tip of his wand in case Harry’s paranoia did prove correct, but after a few heartbeats light leaked from his eyes and Harry gave a sigh of relief.

He straightened back up, giving Draco a tired thumbs up.

“Looks pleasant.”

“Yeah. Practically a massage.”

“Sorry about that.” The boy sounded guilty, too. “Uh, ready, Malfoy?”

Draco gave a nod, bracing himself for pain. Which case fairly quickly, and wasn’t anything to scoff at, but also wasn’t anything impressive in comparison to that which he’d felt on a pretty regular basis for an extended amount of time. Plus, Draco didn’t want to give anyone the satisfaction of thinking they’d hurt him enough to crack him, and he carefully kept his face blank and his voice silence while the spell was dragged out of him.

The boy did, indeed, look vaguely disappointed. Harry looked concerned, still. 

“May we leave now? I’m sure Head Auror Karim wants to talk to us, but given we’ve both been here much less than others affected, we won’t be a high priority.” Draco also had no doubt there were a lot of people affected. Choosing Harry Potter’s house to leave a spell was rather clever, as the Ministry was sure to have sent a surplus of people to handle the case. Nothing but the best for the savior.

The boy gave a tentative nod. “Just be ready to come in when called.”

“I always am.” Draco replied.

Harry frowned. “I’m not.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be now, Mr. Potter.”

← →

Draco apparated them back, behind the cafe as usual, and once there he slumped against the wall with a yawn. “I know I promised talking, but perhaps it might be a better idea if we just meet up after a nap.”

“Meet up?” Harry tilted his head.

“Well… you don’t have to stay with me any more. I assumed you just wanted to pick up Mini.”

“My house is probably even more of a crime scene, now.”

There were multiple people Harry could stay with instead of Draco. Draco, however, refrained from pointing that out. He didn’t really mind having Harry near, anymore, and if Harry had reasons for not wanting to go stay with his friends Draco wasn’t going to force them into the open. “Alright. Nap and then talk afterwards, no meeting up required.”

Harry gave a lopsided grin, and Draco let himself smile in response. It was stupidly endearing, so no one should be able to blame him if he couldn’t help but reciprocate.

The walk back felt longer than Draco remembered it being, and by the time they got to his front door it felt like all of his body was being weighed down. Still, he checked his wards twice and opened the door then locked it and checked the lock twice.

Now that Harry was an official guest, it seemed rude to make him use the sofa. Draco opened his mouth to suggest Harry take the bed, but then his back was against the wall and Harry was pressed up to his chest instead. It thoroughly distracted him from that chain of thought, and his eyes widened in surprise.

Harry’s face was hovering close to his.

“Harry.”

“Draco.”

“You’re very tired.” Draco swallowed, because really they were both exhausted which impaired judgement abilities, so it was possible right then was not the best time to go doing anything brash.

“I am.”

“And we recently sort of had soul sex, which is undoubtedly affecting your emotional state.”

“This is true.”

While Harry was being very good at acknowledging what Draco was saying, he didn’t seem to be very invested in doing anything with the information. For instance, moving away at all. “Seeing me vulnerable also probably activated your white knight complex which--”

“Draco.”

Was Draco babbling? He couldn’t tell if he was attempting a genuine persuasive argument or if he was just babbling. Perhaps Harry’s awkwardness was contagious, and Draco was going to start babbling just all the time. “Yeah?” He finally said, after too long of a pause.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

Right. Hadn’t absorbed anything Draco had been saying. But then, Draco said, “Okay.” so it didn’t seem like he himself had absorbed any of what he’d been saying anyway.

The way Harry pressed his lips to Draco was tired, and he didn’t really hit center target on his first try so he tilted his head and kissed Draco again more properly. Which, well. It was stupidly endearing. So no one could really blame Draco if he couldn’t help but reciprocate. 

Although reciprocate was putting it lightly, because even though Draco still felt the need for sleep protesting all his movements he still wrapped his arms around the back of Harry’s neck and pressed up into the kiss, feeling cool fingertips slide up under his shirt, and he broke off the kiss to let out a warm breath against Harry’s lips. “Standing was already enough of a hassle.”

“We could lay down.”

“We could.” Sounded like an excellent plan, in fact, and it vaguely occured to Draco that Harry might have just kissed him in the hopes of getting to share the bed instead of having to return to the couch, but that seemed a bit too devious for Harry’s current state.

Lips at Draco’s neck, Harry guided them off the wall and towards the bedroom, Draco’s hand out behind him searching for the door. He broke away and turned when his fingers brushed wood, Harry’s hand skating along his skin to rest on his lower back, and opened the door and caught the string.

Harry walked through the door, allowing Draco to follow after him and replace the string as he closed the door again, and then Harry’s mouth reattached to Draco’s skin.

“Ah, bed, it has--”

“I figured.” 

Right, Harry had already said he suspected more ‘traps’. “Just. One minute.”

Obediently, Harry moved away from Draco. Draco swallowed, trying to push away the feelings of stupidity and shame when he went over to his bed and picked up the beads off the sheets. He opened his nightstand drawer, depositing them in their container next to the small notebook. He quietly slid the drawer shut, staring at his hand on it for a long time.

He bit the inside of his cheek in frustration. Always had to look stupid in front of Harry, didn’t he? “Maybe this is--”

“Oh shut up for once, Draco.” The rustle of clothing and then Harry was pressed against Draco’s back, arms sliding around his waist. “I don’t care. Okay? Whatever you’re worried that you having compulsions has ruined, it hasn’t. Just stop thinking.”

_Easy for you to say._ Except it wasn’t, really. Harry understood. That was probably the only reason why Draco let himself relax back into the hold, turning his head to catch Harry’s lips again before the rest of him turned, and he curled his hands into Harry’s shirt while encased protectively in his arms.

When Draco fell onto the bed, he pulled Harry with him, and Draco hooked a leg around the back of his knee and pressed up into the kiss. Laying down, even with Harry Potter on top of him, he could feel sleep pulling at him. And he could tell the same was happening to Harry, his kiss slowed and got less intense, and Harry pulled the blanket off the mattress on the half they weren’t lying on before he rolled them over.

Draco moved his attention to Harry’s neck, peppering it with lazy kisses as his eyelids drooped. The last thing he remembered before unconsciousness got a solid hold of him was yawning against an already asleep Harry’s throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally, am i right


	9. The Morning After

When Draco came to he was fairly certain neither of them had moved at all in their sleep. His breath was still spilling over Harry’s neck, although there was the unexpected addition of Harry’s hand in his hair. It shifted softly, carding through the strands. Seemed Draco wasn’t actually the first one to wake up after all.

Draco let out a purposeful yawn before he opened his eyes and glanced up to Harry.

“Afternoon.” Harry murmured.

Draco rolled off Harry, leaving an arm draped over his chest. “Tell me you’re lying. We were just meant to take a nap.”

“Little bit more than a nap.” Harry’s smile was amused.

“Merlin.” An insistent call from Head Auror Karim probably would have woken him up, at least, so hopefully she didn’t send something urgent. “What were you going to ask, back at the ministry?”

“Oh. What my magic looked like.”

“A wildfire.” Draco sat up, leaning over to open his bedside table and taking out his notebook to add a 1 to the list. He’d forgotten to make a note that morning. Clearly Harry was breaking some habits. “It was huge, and out of control. Then in the center there was something solid -- felt almost metallic.”

Harry tilted his head in thought. “I feel like I knew that already, somehow. It makes sense, anyway.”

Someone was aware about their lack of discipline, then. How he managed to do smaller spells that took small amounts of magic, Draco had no idea. 

“Yours was a pond.”

Draco tossed his notebook and pen back into the drawer before closing it. “Lily ponds and all?”

“That would have been cute.” Harry opened his arms up invitingly, then wrapped them around Draco when he moved close against Harry again. “It was very still. Sort of had different colors of light flowing through it.”

“I have a gay pride lake?”

“Yep. Actually, it was a liquid rainbow. There were sparkly booty shorts too. And guyliner.”

“You know only straight people use the word ‘guyliner,’ right?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry for breaking the gay code.”

“Not straight code.” Draco replied, and Harry moved to hit him with a pillow that Draco didn’t bother dodging, but did make a suitably dramatic pained sound in response to. “Hey! I’m starting to feel unsafe, with all this pillow violence. Not sure I’ll be able to open to you if you carry on like this.”

Harry hit him with the pillow again.

Draco stuck out his tongue.

Harry snorted, and he flicked Draco’s tongue which caused Draco make an undignified surprised snorting sound, which made Harry break down laughing, which eventually forced Draco into light giggles as well.

“So.” Harry said, still grinning but having gotten his mirth under control. “Panic attack or beads?”

Well, Draco supposed he had been the one to bring it up. “Beads, I guess.” Not that even a little bit of him wanted to talk about either. Beads, at least, were shorter. “They stun anyone who touches the bed with they’re in position and send an alarm to me.”

“Why?”

“Just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“You know what.”

“Pretend I don’t.”

Draco rolled over, flopping down on his back with a sigh. “I know it’s stupid. I don’t need a public shaming.”

“I think ‘public shaming’ is a bit of a reach from this.”

“Because I don’t want anyone in my fucking bed while I’m gone.”

A long silence followed that just served to stock Draco’s increasingly restless frustration, heightened by the calm of Harry’s lack of response, “You don’t swear a lot.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

Harry gave a soft nod of apparently acknowledgement of Draco’s touchiness. 

“What did you see?” A murmur.

Another silence. Harry let out a slow breath.

“So I’m meant to spill my heart about things even the great therapisting Harry Potter can’t talk about?”

“I didn’t recognize either of them.”

“Didn’t party with death eaters and their victims? Really? All the cool kids were doing it.”

“I was standing at the corner of the room so even though I was trying not to look, I couldn’t get it out of my peripheral.”

Draco tensed.

“I felt like I wasn’t allowed to react, because Voldemort was right there in front of me.”

“Stop.” Stomach rolling in disgust without Harry even mentioning what was actually happening. While Draco remembered many scenes with that setting, he could guess which was hidden near his core.

“Draco…”

“Let’s not talk about this.”

“You have to eventually.”

“Maybe I’m just not ready, did you think about that?” Draco’s gaze cut to Harry sharply. “Did you go to therapy when someone shoved you in a room or when you felt like you needed to?”

Harry opened his mouth but it fell closed again without a sound.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” Draco slipped out of bed, grabbing a change of clothes before he went into the bathroom and locked the door, and when he checked the lock both times it was with a note of spite. He ran the shower hot to burn the feeling off his skin, and haphazardly toweled himself dry before he got dressed. His tie was undone and reknotted about ten times, each time looking admittedly the exact same, and he repeatedly smoothed down his hair in one spot and tidied up his spotless bathroom just a little bit more for good measure before he emerged into his bedroom.

The bed was made and Harry was gone, and when Draco walked over he saw that the beads had been replaced in their proper positions on the covers.

So, alright, an effort was being made. Draco forced himself to relax down before he stopped out into the living room, matching sure to catch and replace the twine, and he relaxed organically at the sight of Mini curled up sleeping in a sunbeam on the floor.

Harry stepped out with a cup of tea, holding it out as a peace offering.

Draco wrapped a hand around it, bringing the mug to his hips to blow on the surface of the tea softly.

“Sorry.” Harry murmured, hands finding their ways into his pockets. “I figured you were just… me, five years ago. That was wrong. I apologize.”

Draco took a sip of the tea.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Wow, you want me to keep going.”

The mug failed to entirely hide Draco’s grin.

“Okay. Alright. Uh. You’re your own person, and I’ll treat you as such, no more forcing or pressuring. Just support. If you want to talk, I’m here. If you want to not talk, I’m still here. I just want to help, I promise, but I think I need more guidance on what actually does help you.”

Draco tilted his head. “Acceptable. Apology, therefore, accepted.”

“So glad my heartfelt speech met minimum requirements.”

“The ‘wow’ part really tugged at my heartstrings.” Draco replied, and Harry gave a sheepish grin before he sat down on the ground next to Mini.

“Yeah, well, you’re more high maintenance than I thought.”

“Liar.” Draco joined him on the floor, free hand threading through Mini’s fur. “You knew I was be high maintenance.”

“I suspected.”

“So you were thinking about it, huh?”

“Maybe.” Harry shifted closer, one hand coming to rest on the small of Draco’s back. “Got concerned with how hard you were flirting with that barista.”

The hand radiated warmth. “We’ve been flirting for around a year, Harry, so there’s no need to get jealous.”

“Did I say I was jealous?” Harry leant in, brushing his lips over Draco’s neck. “I was just worried you’d failed to mention an attractive and charming boyfriend.”

“You’re hyping him up a lot.” Draco shifted, offering up more of his neck. “Trying to pawn me off because I wouldn’t put out on the first date?”

“Yep.” Harry’s other hand rested on Draco’s hip. “Let’s be real, inviting me to your bed and then just falling asleep was some mixed messages.”

Draco laughed. “Heads up, I’m not a second date girl either.”

“Think I can deal with that.”

“Or a third.”

“You know, this isn’t a contract.” Harry’s hand slid to wrap his arm around Draco’s waist. “You don’t need to print me a schedule.”

“I know.” Draco closed his eyes. “Just, if you’re sticking around because I’m hot stuff, it’s really not going to be worth it.”

“You caught me. I was only in it for the doctor professor roleplay. I’m taking my dog and going, now.” He pulled Draco closer. “I’m preparing to flee as we speak.”

“Point taken.” Draco leant back against Harry. “But I won’t blame you if you change your mind.”

“I can promise that if I do change my mind, it won’t be because whether or not you ‘put out.’”

“Not going to promise you’ll never change your mind?”

“No.” Harry kissed Draco’s cheek. “Because if I’ve learned one thing it’s that I absolutely have no clue what the future holds, and also impossible promises don’t help with much.”

“I believe I’ve learned those lessons as well, at some point.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Harry kissed his jawline.

“What would make you change your mind?”

“Eh. Who knows. Who cares, more specifically, because I don’t see it being anytime soon.”

“I care.” Draco murmured, and Harry let out a soft sigh.

“Sometimes people grow apart. I don’t want it to happen, and I’m certainly going to work against it happening, but I can’t promise that I’ll be able to stop it.”

“But there’s not, for example, a specific habit of mine that will inevitably drive you insane?”

“No, I really don’t think so.”

“Well. That’s fine then, I guess.”

Harry grinned. “Yeah?”

Draco fought down a return grin. “Yeah. Not super romantic, but pretty realistic.” He turned his head to rest it against Harry’s neck. “And honest. People generally suck at being honest.”

“I’ve noticed that.”

“Was that a dig at me?”

“No, you just suck at talking about your trauma.”

“Oi.” But Draco’s voice held the amusement that let Harry know he’d understood it was a joke.

“Don’t worry, kid, happens to the best of us.”

“Even the Chosen One?” 

“I will train Mini to viciously attack you.”

“Mini would never. We have an understanding.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. She understands that while you’ve been wrapped around me, I’ve still been petting her this whole time. She understands who she should swear her allegiance to.”

“Damn it. I’ve been out strategized.”

“You have.” Draco looked very pleased with himself.

“We should really go talk to Karim.”

Draco deflated softly. “Yeah. We really should.” Even if Harry was wrapped around him and he had a very cute dog laying contently right in front of him. “And now that I’m no longer you’re bodyguard I do have normal hours to attend to.”

“We can’t make the argument that since the person still isn’t caught, you still need extra time at your home to watch out for me?”

“Maybe.” That could work. “Still need to debrief first, though.”

“Fiiiiiiiiiiine.” Reluctantly Harry pulled away, then offered a hand that Draco took to pull him up. 

“I feel as though we should hire a dog-sitter. We can’t keep taking Mini with us to a very secretive organization.”

Harry glanced at Mini before he looked back at Draco, stepping closer and carefully lowering his voice. “You mean you think she might be an Animagi?”

Draco brought up his hands to cup Harry’s jaw, making him meet Draco’s gaze. “I mean that it’s generally frowned upon to bring pets to agencies. Not everything ends with someone you knew betraying you.”

Harry closed his eyes. “I know.” He took in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “Yeah, I know. Just -- being targeted again…”

“I know.” Probably stirred up a lot of old memories, a lot of old fears. Paranoia had kept Harry alive, for a while. Draco placed a light kiss to the tip of his nose. “But it’s not your job to stop them. Other people are taking care of that this time. Properly. Okay?”

“Yeah.” There was a ghost of a smile on Harry’s lips from the nose kiss, and he brought up a hand to rest over one of Draco’s. “Yes. Okay. Let’s go help those people catch the bad guy while we get to relax.”

“While you get to relax and I get to do paperwork.” Draco let his uncovered hand drop.

“Semantics. I’ll help with the paperwork.”

“Oh, has your writing become more legible?”

Harry grinned, one arm wrapping around Draco’s back to tug him closer. “Nope.”

“Fantastic.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Let’s go before you take back that promise.”

“I solemnly swear I will help with the paperwork.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll hinder.”

“I solemnly swear to be moral support nearby the paperwork.”

“Do you solemnly swear to fetch me coffee?”

“Aha. See, now that--!” Harry stole a kiss, which made Draco roll his eyes. “That is something I can do.”

“We have to go, Harry.”

“I know.” He stole one more kiss. “Very soon.” Another one stolen.

“Now!” Draco’s smile betrayed him, although he did successfully pull away from Harry’s hold. “Right now. She’s probably already tried to send a few messages, you know, considering how long we slept.”

“But clearly no urgent ones!”

“We might open the door to thirty owls!”

“We might not open the door to even one note!”

“I will check.” Draco declared, and Harry narrowed his eyes accusingly while Draco slipped off to open the front door.

There were three letters on his welcome mat, and Draco stared down at them for a few heartbeats.

“Draco?” Harry came up behind him. “What’s wrong.”

“Nothing.” Draco tossed a weak smile over his shoulder, bending down to pick up the letters but stopping short. He straightened back up. “Nothing.”

“Draco.”

“I know.”

“Is there something--?”

“No.” Draco shook his head gently. “They look exactly how they’re meant to, no noticable signs of tampering, and they’re definitely the right size and paper type.”

“Alright.” Harry slid around Draco, glancing at the small pile of letters before he reached down and picked them up.

Nothing happened.

Harry stepped back into the house.

Still nothing.

Under Draco’s unblinking gaze, he opened one of the letters.

Nothing.

Harry slipped the paper out and scanned it, then slipped it back in. “Just a summons. Auror Karim asking us to come at our earliest convenience. This one just in case the other two didn’t arrive, apparently.”

“Exactly what we expected, then.”

“A little pestering, yeah.”

“Alright.”

“You okay?”

“A little uneasy, is all, but I’m rarely not uneasy.”

“You good to apparate?”

“If I couldn’t cast magic under stress I would have never been made an Auror.”

“Fair.” Harry offered his arm, which Draco took, and they stepped out of the house with a final glance at the still-sleeping Mini.

She was probably going to tear the place up again. Draco pulled out his wand and apparated them near the Ministry of Magic, and they started on the short walk towards the building with their arms still linked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> where have i been for over a month? being exhuasted and doing lots of studying. hope the wait was worth it. see y'all next chapter! <3


	10. Paper and Work

They stopped touching when they got to the doors of the ministry -- where someone was likely to take note of them and it -- and the debrief with Karim went as well as could be expected. They stayed relatively vague on how they detected the spell, and it ended up being passed up to a potion Draco had made. Which wasn’t entirely wrong, but definitely didn’t imply the full range of the ridiculousness that they’d done after taking the potion. 

Draco somehow go the general feeling that saying he’d felt up the Chosen One’s soul and lived some of his memories wouldn’t go down very well. 

Nor saying that the Chosen One had done the same to him.

The words _public outcry_ deposited themselves in his head, and he had to keep himself from physically attempting to shake them out.

In any case, Karim had gotten the basic concept that the discovery of the spell was potentially done in a way that might lead her to have to admonish Draco, and that meant she’d have to admonish Harry Potter, and truly it didn’t much matter how they’d discovered it because it wouldn’t be vital to the trail of the perpetrator. With a thoughtful tongue click, they were set free of her office.

Weasley trotted over, both he and Draco straightening slightly at the sight of each other.

“Harry. Heard you got spelled.” Weasley said, and Harry glanced over to Draco.

“Both of us did.”

Draco returned the glance only briefly before he settled his eyes on Weasley. “It was removed safely. He’s uninjured.”

“Thank Merlin for that.” Weasley sent Harry a smile. “Going to come stay with ‘Mionie and me while your house gets re-searched, then?”

That time, the glance was mutual between both Draco and Harry. “It was decided it would be best if I stay with Malfoy until my house is live-able again. Shouldn’t be more than a few days.”

Neither were sure where the footing was with either how official they were nor how comfortable the other person was with being open about it.

Weasley frowned. “Decided by who?”

“It was a general consensus.”

Well, at least Weasley’s suspicions would only be raised severely and greatly by that answer, all thanks to Harry’s smooth lying abilities that did their best to not lie and instead just be as vague as possible.

Actually thankfully, Weasley seemed to decided against pressing any further. “Let’s at least hit the pub in celebration, then.”

Harry hesitated. “I was going to get some paperwork done.”

Draco mentally noted the purposeful lack of mentioning who he was doing the paperwork with.

“They’re making you do paperwork? The boy who lived?”

Harry cringed. “Yeah, well, witness statements are apparently important to court.”

Good save. Draco should really make Harry fill out one, actually. He noted that as well.

“Maybe later, then.”

“Yeah, maybe later.”

The silence stood still and awkward for a few seconds. “Well. I’ll start helping you write your statement, Potter. Come along.” With that, he turned on a heel and started walking away.

With a helpless shrug, Harry followed after him, leaving a narrow-eyed Weasley in the dust.

← → 

“I told you that you’d hinder.”

“I never disagreed.” Harry’s thumb brushed against Draco’s jawline, lips fixed to his throat but not sucking after a quick protest from Draco about hickeys.

“This isn’t really being moral support, either.” The heat of a tongue dragged up the side of Draco’s neck and he let out a warm sigh.

“I’m very hands-on about my supportiveness.”

“Lips-on, I think.”

Harry grinned, pulling back. “Lips-on.” He agreed before catching Draco in a kiss, pressing him back against the filing cabinet so the edge of it bit into his spine. 

Draco’s hands, contently placed with one on Harry’s hip and the other resting on his chest, only curled inwards bare amounts in response. “There is actual paperwork to do.” Draco pointed out, mouth brushing against Harry’s and eyes half lidded.

“I’m sure there is.” 

Draco wasn’t able to respond before he was kissed again, and he wasn’t able to respond while he kissed back either, and he wasn’t able to respond when Harry covered Draco’s hand on his chest with his own hand and interlaced their fingers.

For a heartbeat, Harry pressed against him harder. But only a heartbeat, because once he felt Draco tense he shifted back away and broke off the kiss.

“And I still don’t have coffee.” Draco murmured.

Happy at the assurance he wasn’t in trouble, Harry grinned. “I can fix that.”

The edge of Draco’s lips quirked up slightly before he schooled his expression. “I’d appreciate some time to right my clothes and hair before you open the door.”

Harry laughed, hands going into the hair and Draco anticipated Harry looking to cause even more of a mess but instead he attempted to paw it into stylistic submission. 

Draco slipped out his wand and tapped his head, hair settling into place in seconds.

Harry stuck out his tongue. “Boring. I was doing a great job.”

“You were.” A hand on placed Harry’s shoulder dripped with faux sympathy. “But this is faster, and I’m a caffeine addict.”

“I thought that was Tuesdays only.”

“Tuesdays and Fridays, actually.” Draco corrected, looking thoroughly amused that Harry had remembered the information. “I’m impressed you’re able to remember anything about that conversation outside of how viciously jealous you were.”

“Again, I never said I was jealous.”

“Mm, this is true.” Draco smoothed his clothing, pulling at his sleeves to straighten them. “Unlucky for you, then, that that interaction was one of your memories I stumbled into.”

Harry groaned. “I knew the soul groping was going to have consequences.”

“Like me knowing you’re the jealous type?”

“Maybe.”

Draco slipped his hand into Harry’s, easing him closer. “I’m sure I would have found out eventually.”

“Oh, absolutely.” 

Draco grinned. He placed a soft kiss on Harry’s lips. “I probably wouldn’t have let you kiss me, if I hadn’t felt that jealousy, though.”

At that, Harry did look surprised. “No?” Perhaps even a little insecure.

“The reasons I gave as protest before you kissed me were real reasons, you know.” Draco hadn’t wanted Harry to kiss him out of a sense of a savior complex or just because he was feeling emotionally connected to him after the whole potion ordeal.

“Then why did you let me?”

“Because you’d felt jealous before you saw what happened to me.”

Harry looked like he wanted to say something profound. Draco could practically see the words cycling through his head and being tossed away as not articulate enough. 

Writers, really. They always seemed the worst at being happy with what they wanted to say.

“I’m not kissing you because I want to save you.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” 

“Why don’t I believe you?”

Draco glanced to the door, tilting his head thoughtfully. “I think you’re kissing me and you want to save me, but they’re mostly separate things.”

“I don’t think you need saving.” 

He glanced back to Harry, expression soft, and brought up a hand to cup his jaw. “Yes you do. But it’s okay, because it’s not why you’re kissing me.”

“Then why am I kissing you, Draco Malfoy, oh secret psychologist?”

Draco let out a huff of amusement. “Can’t get anyone else to indulge your doctor professor kink.”

Harry laughed, pulling away. “Black, right?”

“Maybe you weren’t as jealous as I remember you being.”

“I’m just good at fighting through it!” Harry opened the door, sending Draco a wink before he slipped out and let it shut behind him.

Draco sat back down at his desk, where’d the half-filled out first form of his due stack had been abandoned for returning Harry’s attention. He really hadn’t gotten long at all before Harry had slid close and distracted him. 

While Harry had been very clear that he had no issue with waiting, and really they had been in any way together for less than 24 hours so it was hardly waiting yet regardless, somehow Draco got the feeling he would be unused to it. Certainly more so when Draco would be required to explain his rather tricky relationship with sex.

Draco picked up a pen and managed to get through a total of three forms before Harry nudged the door back open with two coffees in hand. “I had to search to find more than a machine.”

Accepting the cup from Harry’s hand, Draco let out a sound of amusement. “Welcome to a government job.”

“I can’t believe I thought I wanted this, at some point.”

Draco wrapped his other hand around the cup, appreciating the warmth. “Probably would have been more glamorous, for you.”

“Well.” Harry put down his coffee. “Yes, but that’s not what I meant.”

Draco tilted his head slightly.

“I mean… all of it. The paranoia, the danger, everything.”

Ah. That was more understandable, and Draco gave a small shrug, glancing back down to the paperwork in front of him. “I have a lot to make up for.”

“I do, too.” Harry sighed, picking up the singular form he had to do that didn’t so much as have his name on it. “I made so many mistakes.”

“Everyone did.” Draco offered him a pen. “It was war.”

Harry stared at the pen for longer than was reasonable, but not longer than was understandable, and then he accepted it and started to write his statement.

← → 

There was the assumed amount of dog-related mess to clean up, when they returned to Draco’s house, and Harry had taken Mini on a walk while Draco sorted repairing his furniture. How muggles managed to own puppies and not go insane, he had no idea.

Harry had slid his arms around Draco when he returned, pressing his front to Draco’s back and placing a kiss just under his jaw.

“You’re very touchy.”

“Should I not be?”

“No, it’s fine.” Just touchy wasn’t bad. Draco would admit that he wasn’t as affectionate as Harry was, not naturally, but that didn’t mean touch was bad.

Still, Harry pulled away. “What’s wrong?”

Draco glanced over his shoulder, taking in Harry’s worried face. “Nothing.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You putting off talking only extends it more.”

“I was just thinking about something that had crossed my mind earlier.”

“Thinking about an earlier thought?”

“Yes.” Draco crossed to sit down on the couch, patting his lap for Mini to perch on him. She curled up under his coffee table instead. “About sex.”

He had been anticipating a sigh and Harry starting with _I already told you I’m okay with blah blah blah…_ but it didn’t come. Harry just sat down next to him and said, “Okay.”

It should have been earlier to explain, because Harry had seen it. Gotten as close to living it as someone other than Draco really could have, but Draco was struggling to find the words more than he had when it was just him talking to Blaise about it. Blaise was a friend, a long-term friend, and thus it hadn’t felt nearly as risky. “You saw what I did.”

“You didn’t do any--”

Draco waved his hand. “I just meant that you saw what I saw. The same thing that I saw.” Word choice. Draco had known he wasn’t going to get it right.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“There were a few things like that.”

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it again. He shifted. He opened his mouth. “On your bed?”

Draco swallowed thickly. “Yes.”

“Did they ever--”

“No.” Draco shook his head. “Not me. Just…” Schoolmates. Friends. Peers. People Draco had known for years. People Draco neither saved nor helped in any meaningful way. “Not me.”

“Okay.” Harry’s hand twitched like his instinct was to touch Draco, but it stilled again on the couch cushion instead.

There were a lot of different ways to carry the conversation on from there. A lot of them felt very presumptuous. “Are you sexually active?”

Harry considered the question. “Not at the moment, really, but I tend to be.”

At least he wasn’t lying in an attempt to pacify Draco, or something. “I’m not.”

Harry nodded his head. “Alright.”

“I mean--” Complications. Draco had previewed that it wasn’t going to be a very passionate relationship from that angle, at least, but the gnawing feeling of guilt for Harry not knowing the details was still eating at him. “I’ve known Blaise since we were children. We hooked up before the war pretty frequently, but always as friends. It was just familiar. It didn’t feel like we were the people who’d fought.”

Harry stayed silent, probably waiting for a point to arrive while also bursting with joy at Draco talking.

“It wasn’t like before, anyway. I can’t do it, sometimes, out of nowhere. Regardless of how far through we are. And it wasn’t...” The gesture he gave didn’t really mean anything, but he hoped Harry understood anyway. “ _Sex_ sex.” Draco glanced over to Harry carefully. “I don’t think that’s something I want anymore. Potentially ever.” It was linked with too many things, too many memories, too much guilt and disgust. “I don’t want most of it.”

More than anything, Harry looked thoughtful. Almost academically, it was the same expression as he’d make back at school when trying to figure out a potion. “So me wrapping around you--”

“That’s fine. I didn’t lie.”

“Kissing?”

“Enjoyable.”

“More so with me than Blaise, though, right?”

Draco raised an eyebrow before he quirked a smile, letting out a soft chuckle. “Yes, Harry. More so with you.”

Harry grinned, glad to have both alleviated jealousy and broken some of the tension, before he schooled his expression to more solemn curiosity. “The hickeys thing?”

“Just about professionalism. Making out is,” Well, he wasn’t sure what other word to use. “Safe.” Didn't feel like something sickly and deplorable. “Anything that’d be just making out is fine.”

Harry pressed his lips together. He was quiet for a few seconds, thinking something over. “That’s okay with me.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, though, so Draco just waited.

“Is that the line?”

Ah, must have been thinking over how to phrase that without sounding disappointed. “No. Well, for now yes, overall no.”

Harry looked expectant. 

Draco sighed, bringing a hand up to his forehead. “I don’t usually have an issue with hands.”

“Mouths?”

“No.” It was difficult to draw a definitive line, really, but Draco didn’t want to get Harry’s hopes up for something that might not happen. “I managed to give once, but I can’t receive.” A hand rose up and Draco twirled a lock of hair between two fingers. “And there were a lot of failed giving attempts, too.”

Harry didn’t ask for anything past that, correctly assuming that at least for the time being anything more was strictly off limits. “Well, that’s one awkward conversation done and over with.”

“Got any more we should do, while on this roll?”

“I think I hate Blaise a little bit.”

Draco shrugged. “Most people do.”

“Also we should probably discuss what we are and what we’re hoping for. I didn’t have a clue what to tell Ron.”

Definitely another awkward conversation lined up, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i only have one final left........ which means i had time to write this but nOT the emotional energy to revise it afterwards in case of typos 
> 
> more of the "very frank discussions about a lot of things" being applicable. in this house we have healthy communication


	11. Flourishing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the rest was history.

“What do you want us to be?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Just acquiesce to whatever I fancy. I’ll say something and you’ll say ‘that works for me’ and then we’ll be that and you’ll have voided your say in the matter.”

“I might not!”

Draco leveled Harry with an unimpressed look, and Harry chanced a crooked grin.

“Okay, that was my plan.”

“Yeah.” Draco leant back on the couch, more comfortable with this conversation than the previous one, at least. “So, Harry Potter, what are you looking for?”

“No clue.”

“Terrible answer.”

“The truth.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

“I guess?”

Draco narrowed his eyes further.

“I’m feeling weirdly threatened right now.”

Draco narrowed his eyes more but then laughed, and that let Harry laugh, and that seemed to relax the rebuilt tension.

Harry reached out and wrapped an arm around Draco, pulling him in closer to rest against Harry’s chest. “Maybe we should go on an actual date in the actual outside world before we look for a label.”

“See, I knew you had an opinion on it.”

“Just being sensible.”

“You are widely well known for your sensibility.”

“Oh shut up.”

Draco shifted, settling against Harry comfortable, with a distinct aura of self-satisfaction. “Do you want to be in a relationship at all, though? Not to sound insensitive, but you seem to be struggling with the whole bisexual thing.”

“Not sure I’m bi.”

Draco refrained from rolling his eyes. “The whole not straight thing.”

“I’m not struggling with it itself.”

Draco elbowed him softly.

“Hey, ow.” Harry pulled Draco in tighter, making him lose his elbow wind up room. “Okay, I am a little bit. But mostly I’m just… worried about everyone else finding out.”

“So if our actual real date does go well and we decide to be actual real boyfriends, it’d be a secret affair?”

“I wouldn’t want it to be a secret.” Harry was probably worried about giving off the idea that he was ashamed of Draco.

“I wouldn’t take it personally. You don’t have to out yourself for me.”

“You made it sound like you weren’t completely out, either.”

Draco shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t go out of my way to let people know. I prefer to steer clear of discussing my private life in general with people who aren’t my friends, so it doesn’t really come up. I’d say I’m neither closeted nor out.”

“The limbo of homosexuality.”

Draco snorted. “That’s awful.”

“I want to come out. Whether our actual real date goes wonderfully or horribly. I want people to know.”

“Feel like you owe it to your non-straight fans?”

“Is that really so bad?” Harry’s head came to rest on Draco’s shoulder. “Maybe owe isn’t the right word. But I do want them to know, and if that means everyone else knowing, that’s worth it.”

“Alright.”

Harry blinked his surprise. “I thought you’d be more opposed.”

Draco shrugged, lifting Harry’s head up gently. “Other people aren’t necessarily a bad reason to come out. Feeling like people deserve to know is a bad reason, wanting people who it could help to know isn’t.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“You’re not the only sensible one, as it turns out.”

“Hey Draco?”

“Yes?” 

“I have a feeling our actual real date will go well.”

“How odd. I do too.”

← → 

They decided somewhere quiet would be best, somewhere muggle where they were just two random men. Draco knew the safe neighborhoods in the area, and he knew which ones weren’t safe, so the restaurant they settled on spared them no second glances when they tooka small corner booth together.

“We’re very far past first date talk, you know.” Draco mused, eyes flitting down the menu and debating strongly on what to eat. “Not sure what we should be talking about.”

“Your job, maybe?” Harry offered, narrowing his eyes contemplatively at what Draco assumed was an appealing meal choice. 

“It’s boring.” Draco flicked back to the appetizers, thinking maybe he should just have one of those as his entire meal. Nerves had his stomach a little touchy. “I’m barely an Auror, although your case may have changed that a little. Mostly I just investigate robberies and break-ins. Missing pets, every now and then, as well. I have some regulars.”

“Regulars?”  
Deciding that a spinach wrap really sounds fine enough, Draco closed his menu with a nod. “Mrs. Clancy is one. She owns a second hand shop and calls whenever she misplaces something. I’ve never ended up not being able to find it within the shop itself, usually just under or behind something else.”

“She hides them on purpose?”

“I doubt it.” Draco did fix Harry with a curious look, though, wondering how heavily Harry looked at everything through a conspiracy gaze after the war. And after Draco, really. “She’s older, so her memory is a bit fuzzy. She clearly looks for the objects before she calls in, just fails to find them.”

“She sounds lonely.”

Draco shrugged a shoulder. “Most people are.”

Harry glanced up from his menu. “You think so?”

Well, he didn’t anticipate the response being taken so intensely. Draco paused to think it over more. “I think there’s a large different between lonely and alone.”

“Which are you?”

A huff of amusement. “I have friends, thank you. Pretty sure I’ve even mentioned them before.”

“Do they usually not chat to you for a few days?”

“Yes?” Draco’s eyebrows scrunched together. “What, do your friends just constantly badger you?”

“I mean… yes.” Harry looked slightly confused, though. “It’s not really badgering, though. I just usually at least talk to one of them most days.”

“Sounds exhausting.” Draco and his friends were all much less pestering than that. “I’d say that I talk to most of my friends more than twice a month, almost always. Certainly not every few days.”

“Just talking? Not even seeing in person, but no talking?”

“Maybe I should teach you about introversion.”

Harry straightened his back. “I know what that is.”

“Granger tell you?”

“Maybe.”

Draco smiled.

Harry did too. “I think you make yourself smile more than I make you smile.”

“I’m funnier than you.” He shrugged. It may have also had something to do with how much enjoyment Draco still got from knowing Harry well enough to tease him.

“You wish.” 

The waitress came up and asked what they wanted, and they ordered, and the rest of the date was filled up with calling each other weird and fluffing their metaphorical feathers quite effectively.

← _Epilogue_ → 

The front door flung open and Neville flew through, newspaper in hand, and he waved it through the air spectacularly. “You two are engaged?” He shouted, sounding far more offended than he should have been at the prospect.

“We are?” Draco paused the tea on its way to his lips, glancing up the staircase. “Harry, why didn’t you tell me we were getting married?” He called.

There was the sound of clatter from upstairs while Neville deflated slightly and his hand fell against his side.

Harry clambered down the stairs loudly, rubbing his shoulder. “What are we doing, now?”

“Getting married.” Draco said plainly, taking the sip he’d been halfway through before he’d gotten interrupted. “According to…”

Neville sighed, and tossed the newspaper on the couch. “Noteworthy and Necessary.” He grumbled as Draco reached over to pick up the paper.

Indeed, the usually reputable source had a headline of their engagement on it. The two people in the stalker-distance photograph did look rather like them, but that wasn’t saying much. Harry glanced over Draco’s shoulder. “Maybe we should find out who those two are and send them a wedding present.”

“We absolutely should. One of Mini’s puppies, for sure.”

“You can’t just give someone a living creature to take care of.” Said Neville, who was sitting down in one of the chairs.

Draco clicked his tongue. “We wouldn’t have to if someone had properly taken care of the living creature he had chosen to get of his own free will.”

Harry groaned. “I thought it’d already been done!”

“It’s dangerous to do on puppies.” Neville pointed out.

“Yeah, I know that now. But no one had told me that when I bought a puppy.”

“Where is Mini, anyway? She’s due pretty soon, I could check on her. Maybe give a more accurate delivery date.”

“You just want to fawn over our bratty dog.” But Draco guestered up the stairs. “In the bedroom, undoubtedly. She’s taken over our bed in this trying time.”

“Cheers.”

“And Longbottom?”

Neville paused with a foot on the first step.

“You do, indeed, get first pick of which puppy you want.”

Neville grinned and jogged up the stairs.

Harry sat down next to Draco, laying his legs over Draco’s lap. “Hey, boyfriend?” He really had never gotten over the way they became official to the public, after Harry declaring he was ready to be out. Draco had nodded, and then the next time they were in a magical pub Draco had just called out ‘hey boyfriend’ to get Harry to turn around before kissing him. 

Harry had broken down laughing immediately, for far too long, before catching Draco in another kiss.

It had been all over everywhere within an hour.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes, boyfriend?”

“Do you want to get married?” 

“As a general question or as in you’re about to ask me for my three gifts of courtship?”

“As a general question. And as a follow up question: your what?”

Really, Harry’s lack of knowledge of anything pureblood never stopped surprising Draco. He’d given Harry enough books to read. The poor man was simply a lecture learner, it seemed. “One day, sure. Maybe even to you. If you learn how to get engaged in a way the lineage will accept, or we’ll never get Grimmauld Place under control.”

“It’s not making for a great city home, as is.” Harry agreed. “So how am I meant to propose to you?”

“It’s in the History of Blood and Purity.”

“And so is a ton of bigoted stuff.”

“Yes, Harry. Pureblood history books are bigoted. And also full of information relevant to both of our lives.”

“I know, I know.” Didn’t make them less exhausting to read. 

There was a pause where Neville’s baby talk to Mini could be faintly heard. He must have left the bedroom door open.

“So?” Harry prompted.

If Draco could ever possess the ability to ignore Harry Potter, it certainly would have shown up back at school. “Whoever is proposing must request the chance to prove their dedication by asking their beloved to give them three items to acquire, usually each by way of dangerous quest or show of wealth, to present to the object of their desire in an attempt to win their hand.”

“Wow. You recited that.”

“I sure did.” The tea was finished off, and Draco set his saucer down on the coffee table. “It works as a spell, so if the proposer fails to get the three items within a set time limit they are marked as unweddable.” 

“Merlin.”

“Yeah. A proposal is a very high-stakes political move. It could easily ruin a family’s hope of alliances for a generation.”

“What are you going to make me get you?”

One edge of Draco’s lips lips quirked up. “Depends on when you ask. What if I plan ahead and then a fruit is out of season?”

“Then I would cast a complex biodome spell to mimic the season and grow the fruit myself.”

“Romantic.”

“So you two are getting engaged!” Neville’s grin shone down from the top of the stairs.

“We are discussing the possibility.”

“I think I’m being threatened over the possibility, actually.” Harry’s brows were furrowed. “I could ruin my chances at alliances for a whole generation, you know.”

“And one generation is all it takes to cripple a family, if done right.” Draco added.

“What, the fetching proposal? That’s a bit outdated, isn’t it?” Neville looked contemplative. 

“It’s the most recent and safest one that will still be acknowledged by the trees.” 

“Oh, right.” Neville leaned against the handrail. “Grimmauld Place hasn’t come around to Harry yet?”

“It seems very stubborn about the whole ordeal.”

“Even though I’m the one it was given to.” Harry stared fake daggers at Draco, who just looked amused.

“You’re jealous that your house fancies me.”

“Are we overestimating the level of sentience that pureblood houses possess?” Neville looked unsure about the claim that Harry’s house had a crush on Draco.

“Underestimating, most likely. Many of them have magic older than what’s recorded. Grimmauld certainly does -- you can tell. He wouldn’t have such a strong personality if he was as young as the texts say.”

“He?” Harry parroted.

Draco looked back. “I will not abide a female house fancying me.”

“Now I feel like we’re overestimating the sentience for sure.” Neville shook his head.

“Maybe.” Draco smiled. “How is the slutty pup?”

“Good.” He pushed off the handrail, finishing his descent down the steps. “Looks like still two weeks out, no complications. All four are developing as expected.”

Harry looked very happy. “You going to Ron and Hermione's party tonight?”

Neville cut a nervous glance to Draco.

Draco didn’t roll his eyes again, although it was near thing. “I won’t be crying myself to sleep because I wasn’t invited to baby shower.”

Neville looked at Harry questioningly.

“Hey.” Draco’s voice got a bit harder. “I can speak for myself. Go to the party, have fun. I’m a big boy, and Granger is entirely right to her time considering my apology.”

Honestly, Harry also looked a little bit annoyed that Neville had looked to him for whether Draco was actually okay with it. Even Neville treated him like he was the same ignorant and scared kid he’d been back at Hogwarts, sometimes. 

“Sorry.” Neville brought up a hand to scratch the back of his head. “I’ll be there.” He padded over to Draco and leant in to whisper, “If you two do get engaged, I’ll be the first to know, right?”

Draco hummed thoughtfully. “It seems likely that we’ll be the first ones to know, honestly.”

“That’s not even slightly an answer.”

Draco shrugged. “I suppose it’s not.” He didn’t add anything else.

Harry stifled a laugh. 

“I’m just going to assume you two are secretly engaged starting now so I’ll always be the first to know.”

“Sounds like a plan, darling.” Draco tittered. “Shouldn’t you go get ready? I’m guessing Ginevra will be there.”

Neville flushed. “Right. See you tonight, Harry.”

“See you, Neville.” 

They both watched him leave.

“When do you think he’s going to realize that Ginny is head over heels for Luna?”

“I have no idea.” Harry frowned at the door. 

“Or that there’s no way we’re getting engaged before Granger forgives me, if she chooses to?”

“Well.” Harry looked like he wanted to argue that, but he was also aware that Draco was absolutely right. Harry had moved in with Draco without Hermione’s blessing, and that had been enough pushing the ticket for him.

Besides, neither of them were in a hurry. It could wait.

“Probably not for a while.” Harry relented.

“Yeah.” At least they were giving him a free puppy of his choosing, so they were totally nice people. “I think I’ve made you meaner.”

“Why, ‘cause I haven’t told Neville that Ginny’s unavailable?” 

“Well, yes, partially. Why haven’t you?”

“I once fancied someone who was very busy flirting with another person, and me shooting my shot still worked out pretty well.”

“Speaking of, we haven’t asked Otto around in a while. Maybe he would take a puppy.”

“Doesn’t he live in a small apartment?”

“Yes.”

“With roommates?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll think he’ll take a puppy?”

“No, I think it’s worth trying to convince him to take a puppy.”

“We could just raise three puppies.”

“Neither of us are ready to be parents to triplets, Harry. One was enough of a handful.”

“I would make a great stay-at-home dad.”

“You already were a stay-at-home dad. You’d be even less of a stay-at-home dad this time, because now you have deadlines when you write.”

“I do.” Harry deflated. “You’ve reminded me of them. Now I’m depressed.”

“That’s why you write about laying in fields, darling.”

“Ah, I’d almost forgotten where it started.”

“No you hadn’t.” Draco stood up. “Come along, let’s make you presentable for tonight.”

“It doesn’t seem worth it when you’re not going to be there. There’ll be no one to make me look unkempt.”

“Except for anyone who owns a brush.” He started up the stairs.

“Rude.”

“Coming?”

“Do you really have to ask?” The tone was tinted with a smile that Draco didn’t have to glance behind him to see, and he opened the door to their bedroom and left it open as he wandered into the ensuite bathroom.

“No.” He murmured. “I really don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally just going to be the epilogue but I thought it was skimping out to just never write them going on an actual date, so... deciding whether that would be its own chapter or if it'd be cut etc was a whole ordeal. I ended up just smooshing the two together for the final chapter.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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